


Music of the Night

by amandaterasu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Auction, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Bloodplay, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M, Gothic, Historical Fantasy, Minor Character Death, Murder, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Painful Sex, Painplay, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Romance, Soulmates, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-12-27 00:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 89,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: A Gothic Romance AU set in the Victorian Era, where Emet-Selch is a vampire. So are a few other NPCs. Tags will be updated as fic evolves.After Renfield's unexpected Death, Solus must secure himself a new servant to care for his manor and see to his needs during daylight hours. Under the advice of his friend Magnai and his new wife, Solus heads to an underground auction and purchases himself a new pet. This assumes the reader-insert character is cis-female.This fic uses the InteractiveFics Browser Extension. You'll want to set the following substitutions to the name of your choice:[FN] - First name[LN] - Last name





	1. The Auction

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna wait to post this but after RAW ended people on twitter seemed to want more Eme and it's Spooktober (at least right now, this will still probably be in progress well past halloween) so why not have fun. Plus, I write fics so I can be happy!

“Renfield!” he called stalking through the manor. “Renfield, where are you?” 

When the servant did not answer, Count Solus Galvus began climbing the stairs. His irritation would have been quite evident to any who saw him - if only there were another soul within the dour manor. As he reached the landing halfway up, the smell of death began to assault him. “Damnable hell.”

It was much as he’d surmised, once he reached the man’s rooms. Renfield had died sometime in the last few days, leaving naught but a mouldering corpse for Solus to deal with. “I must accord you a level of professional respect, Renfield,” he said to the body as he began wrapping it unceremoniously in the sheets it had expired upon. “Despite my belief that it was not possible, you found a way to be even more irritating to me in death than you were in life.”

The corpse, of course, did not reply, despite its master’s almost affectionate tone.

Midnight found Solus deep within the moors, dumping Renfield’s body into a hastily-dug, unmarked grave. “No note,” he grumbled as he began shoveling dirt back over him. “No clean and pressed jacket, no successor prepared to take your place,” He spat as he patted the last of the dirt down with the shovel. “Not even some terrified idiot for me to snack upon once I’d finished this unseemly task. You were wholly unprepared for your death, and left me the inconvenience of it. I shall have to secure a woman, next time. They at least have a care for their betters. And would be a damn sight better to look upon, even after their demise.”

He trudged back to the house, leaving the shovel in the stables before taking a moment to feed the horses. “Couldn’t even tend to them before he passed. How typically Renfield.” He stopped at the door. “I will return tomorrow evening, and take one of you with me to London.” Then he entered the manor again, descended into the basement, and slept.

* * *

[FN] [LN] stared blankly into the rainy afternoon from the window of the carriage, taking her towards the outskirts of London, while her stepmother prattled on.

“I am sorry it has come to this, [FN],” she said, for perhaps the fifteenth or sixteenth time, “but the money has run out, and we cannot care for you. Daughters are just too expensive.”

It was a refrain she’d heard before. Her mother, Evelyn, had died in childbed with her, and her father, Jasper, seeking a maternal influence for his only child, had married Euphemia. Then he died of an ague when [FN] was three, leaving the young widow with a fortune (gone into her second husband’s gambling debts), and an unwanted stepdaughter. 

“I’ve been assured that Mr. Morgan’s organization is quite reputable. They will find you a good family to take you in as a housemaid. You’ll have a roof over your head, food to eat, and gainful employment. This is truly an opportunity you should be grateful for.” [FN] merely bobbed her head in acceptance of Euphemia’s words. There was little to be said on the matter - her stepmother was saying these things merely to assuage her own guilt, not comfort her unwanted ward. 

The carriage finally rolled to a stop outside of a large brick manor, with black-painted lintels, though the door and grounds were hidden between a wrought iron fence backed with high hedges. A footman approached, and helped Euphemia out of the carriage, then a moment later, assisted [FN]. Her stepmother smiled primly. “I am Mrs. Euphemia Hughes, here for an appointment with Mr. Morgan.”

The footman bowed. “Right this way, Mrs. Hughes.” He lead them through the open gate towards the front door of the manor, and [FN] was struck by the way the hedges seemed to loom over her, closing in. A chill autumn wind blew the rain into her face, and for a moment, she could have sworn the shadow of a man stretched across her path… but then the wind changed, and it was naught but a handful of leaves being torn from a nearby tree.

[FN] pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to her face once they were inside, and marvelled at the house. It reminded her of her childhood, with all the fixtures still in place, well-tended and maintained. For all that she dreaded what had been decided for her, it bolstered her slightly, and made what was to come a little easier to bear up under.

A few minutes later, they were lead into a stately office lined with books, and introduced to Mr. Morgan. He was a tall man, with a kind smile under a bristling dark moustache, and kissed the knuckles of [FN]’s hand with courtesy. 

He listened patiently as Euphemia repeated the sob story yet again, and [FN] stared at the floor. “Well, Mrs. Hughes, we can certainly find a place for Miss [LN], though I must tell you, we do not issue a monthly stipend to the family. In this case, you would receive a generous one-time payment of two-hundred and fifty pounds, and then any income afterward would go to the young lady.” He gestured to [FN]. “We are in the business of setting destitute young women up for success, not earning money for their families on their backs. I hope that is agreeable to you?” 

Euphemia had stopped listening at two-hundred and fifty pounds. It would take [FN] well over a decade to earn that much as a housemaid, even if she sent all her money back to her stepmother and her husband. It was no surprise when she signed on the dotted line, asked few questions, and vanished without a word once the purse was in her hand, leaving [FN] alone in the office, seated across from Mr. Morgan.

“Well, child. Now that _she’s_ out of the way, let’s get down to business, shall we?” His tone had changed, from mildly-disinterested, to warm, but calculating. “If you wish, I can find you a placement as a housemaid, and leave you to the fate to which your guardian was so quick to abandon you. Or…” He leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You can gamble with me, and possibly become so much more.”

[FN] tilted her head. “Gambling implies a chance of loss. What happens if I lose?”

Mr. Morgan shrugged. “You die.”

“Oh,” she said, and relaxed a little. “I thought it was going to be something bad.”

* * *

Three hours after sunset, Solus rode into the courtyard of the estate of the only man he’d consider a ‘friend’ these days. “Oronir!” he bellowed. “Oronir, let me in!” 

A wan looking stable-boy scurried out of the shadows to take the reins that were thrown in his direction as the front door of the manor opened. “I would thank you not to _shout_, Solus!” Magnai Oronir said, descending the steps. “It’s late and you’re making a spectacle. Why are you here?”

“Now, Magnai,” Solus said, clapping the taller man on the arm. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Magnai snorted. “It is when I am on my honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon? Oh, damnable hell, Magnai, is that the game you’re playing? Just drain the bint and be done with it.” Solus rolled his eyes and headed for the door of the manor without invitation. “Renfield’s dead. I need to know where I can get another.”

He heard the man’s pained sigh as he followed him inside. “If you weren’t so pathetic I’d have you staked out for sunrise, Galvus.”

“If you weren’t so condescending I’d think you were as bad as Greystone, Oronir,” he replied tartly. Once inside the manor, a manservant took Solus’s hat and coat. “Now, I need to know your connections. Renfield’s gone, and I can’t very well wander into the nearest village and ask the first Haymarket Hector I come across to supply me with half-a-dozen girls a month. Even he’ll ask questions.”

“Really, Solus, I can’t -”

“Who is this?” A feminine voice called from the top of the stairs. Both men looked up to see a tall, willowy woman with a mop of curls, large eyes, and alabaster skin in an evening gown. “Dearest,” she said thinly, “You did not tell me we would be having a guest.”

“Forgive me, Rynn,” Magnai said, and the yearning look he gave the woman made Solus press his hand to his head in exasperation. “This is Solus. Another one of our kind, though much more prone to isolation. His servant has died, and he is hoping we can help him find another.”

“Wait,” Solus said, “_Our_ kind?” He looked at the woman - this Rynn - again, and cursed. “Magnai, you cuntstruck fool. You _turned_ her?”

The other man gave him a scandalized look. “I’ll thank you not to use that kind of language in a lady’s company. And yes, I did. I refuse to live without my Rynn.” When she reached the foot of the stairs, Magnai put his arms around her protectively.

“You are pale, Solus,” Rynn said, and it irritated him how perceptive she seemed. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “A week or so? I only noticed I was hungry last night, so I went looking for Renfield. Found him dead in his bed, buried him in the moors, and here I am.”

Magnai made a groan of irritation and lowered his head, pressing his forehead into Rynn’s curls, and the woman sighed. “Well, I can’t very well let a guest starve. And it would be dangerous for you to go into a bloodlust so near our home. We can put you in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and send up a footman. But please, don’t kill him.”

Solus nodded. It was easier to let them live than clean up bodies. “Of course, Rynn Khatun.” He bowed formally.

“Khatun?” She tilted her head quizzically. 

Magnai scowled, but Solus said, “You must be newly married if he hasn’t told you yet. Khatun is the wife of a khan - or khagan, in your husband’s case. It is an honorific. I meant no offense.” 

He watched as her eyes slid to the side, and narrowed slightly at her husband. “None taken.” She focused on him again. “Tomorrow night we will go to Mr. Morgan’s. He’s having an auction, maybe you can secure yourself another servant or two.”

“Auction?” Solus raised an eyebrow.

Magnai chuckled, and kissed Rynn’s temple. “Where do you think I got her?”

Solus bit back the half-a-dozen insults that sprang to mind. It was rude to offend a lady who had just offered her hospitality.

* * *

“Sold! For two million pounds!” Mr. Morgan called, twirling the gavel in his hand before he slammed it down. “Congratulations, Mr. Wright!”

“I cannot believe they’re doing this so openly,” Solus said to Magnai as they crowded in the ballroom of a manor just outside London with a few dozen other unscrupulous individuals. “Back in my day, you just took them off the street.”

“Now they’re vetted,” Magnai murmured, “no worrying about drug problems or diseases. Do I need to remind you of that time you got syphilis in your -”

“Will you both be quiet?” Rynn murmured.

“Still,” Magnai lowered his voice to a breathy whisper. “It took twenty years to get the infection out. They’re all healthy and entering into it willingly. You’d be amazed what this modern era has done to female chastity.”

Solus grinned as Rynn’s elbow slammed into Magnai’s ribs. “I’ll thank you, dear husband, to not make such aspersions toward my character. You know as well as I that every woman on that stage is choosing what she considers the least bad of a myriad of options, and I will remind you that they don’t tell us that _vampires_ are on the table.”

Solus and Magnai both glared at her, and said, in unison. “Don’t use that word.”

“I’ll say what I like,” she replied, “if you continue to malign the fairer sex.”

Magnai rolled his eyes, but said, “I am duly chastened, my love.”

“Our next item is a young lady fallen on hard times after her father’s untimely death. Her stepmother squandered the family fortune.” The crowd let out an ‘ooh’ of sympathy and Solus’s eyes widened at the woman who stepped onto the stage. She was beautiful, and tragic, and the look of absolute despair in her large eyes seemed to pull him in - like she was the only other person who might understand his solitude.

“An exceptionally rare find at our little soirees,” Mr. Morgan continued, “Not only does Miss [FN] come with our standard guarantees in regards to her health, we _also_ guarantee that she is a virgin, and has no family that will come sniffing after her.” The auctioneer murmured something to the girl, and she span in place on stage. The movement of her gown and the unforgiving lights hinted at soft curves and a fullness of figure that Solus knew from millenia of experience would be delightful to touch. And there, just below her chin as she turned back to face the crowd, her fluttering heartbeat, belying her vitality, and the sweet nectar he yearned to taste. Solus reached into his coat to find the letter of credit he had secured on his way into town.

“We’ll begin the bidding at five hundred thousand pounds!” Mr. Morgan called, and hands began to shoot up across the room.

“One million!”

“One point one!”

“One point three!”

“One point seven!”

Solus glanced at Magnai and Rynn, who both watched him with a bemused expression. He swallowed, glanced down to his letter one last time, and called, “Seven point five!”

Rynn covered her giggle with her hand.

“What?” Solus mumbled. “She’s a damn sight better than old Renfield.”


	2. Welcome to Amaurot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Galvus is formally introduced to [FN], and brings her to his estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun! Things will start to get real spicy next chapter. Also I am well aware that's like, a billion dollars in today's money. we're just having fun with this. ;)

“Sold! For Seven-point-five million pounds!” Mr. Morgan was quick on the offer, and [FN] sighed. At that price, at least the man who purchased her was unlikely to hurt her too badly. The most she had to worry about was losing her virginity to an idiotic nobleman at this point. She glanced at Mr. Morgan, who nodded encouragingly. He had told her as much.

_”It’s the women who go for low prices that don’t last, usually,” he said. “No one wants to blow a few million pounds on one murder. The higher your price, the longer they will keep you alive.”_

She moved backstage, and one of the footmen led her to a sitting room. Now she just needed to wait until the winner came to claim her.

* * *

Solus bought a few more servants that evening - a handful of men to handle the outside chores, and two maids to handle the more mundane parts of the household - with money Magnai lent him. These came from the secondary auction, people who fell on hard times without references, and accepted indentured contracts. [FN], the beauty he had bought for an obnoxious sum, would be the one who primarily dealt with them. 

He thought of her fluttering pulse again and bit his lip. He’d have to ease into this slowly, make her want him, or he’d kill her in his rush. Still, he was at the door to the sitting room in a flash, not even deigning to slow himself to appear mortal once he’d settled accounts. Magnai followed behind at a sedate pace, shaking his head. “You’re going to terrify the poor thing,” he said.

Solus rolled his eyes. “No, I’m going to charm her with my winning ways.”

“How?” Rynn asked curiously. “Magnai at least had a gift for me upon our meeting.” She gave her husband a doting smile, and Oronir coughed, pulling at his collar.

_Damn,_ Solus thought, and began patting himself down. _A gift. Right, she needs a gift. It would be rude to -_ He spied a vase of roses against a far wall, and stole them, wrapping the stems in his cravat to form an impromptu bouquet. “This will suffice, I hope.”

“You had certainly better hope,” Magnai grinned. “You don’t appear to have much else.”

One of the clerks came by. “Aah, Count Galvus. Yes, everything’s in order.” He took out a key and unlocked the door. “Let me perform introductions for you.” He glanced at Magnai and Rynn. “Will your friends be joining you as well?”

“No,” Solus said.

“Yes,” Magnai countered. “You’ll make a damn fool of yourself if there isn’t someone to keep you accountable for your actions.”

“Besides,” Rynn added. “I was in her shoes not long ago. It might put her at ease to have someone vouch for you.”

The clerk smiled. “I knew you looked familiar! Miss… oh, what was it… _Rynn!_ That’s right. It’s nice to have you back as a guest this time.” 

Rynn nodded. “So we will _all_ go in. You can wait to ravish her until you get back to your estate.”

“Did you?” Solus asked Magnai as the clerk unlocked the door.

“Did I what?” the taller man replied.

“Wait until you got back to the estate to ravish her?”

Magnai’s answering blush, made Solus bark with laughter.

* * *

[FN] heard vicious laughter as the door opened, and one of the clerks came in, with three others on his heels. The one laughing was a pale man with auburn hair - accented by a white streak - and a cruel smile. Behind him came a lady in a dove-grey gown, and a painfully tall man with tanned skin and a decidedly foreign look about him. She quickly lowered her head before so as not to be caught staring.

“Miss [LN],” the clerk said, and placed a light touch on her shoulder. She rose from her seat, and lifted her eyes to the clerk. “It is my pleasure to introduce Count Solus Galvus, the winner of your auction.” She gave a graceful curtsey, and looked the laughing man in the face. His smile softened a little, and the clerk continued. “My lord, this is Miss [FN] [LN].” 

She extended her hand, as was the custom, and he took it, bending low to place a kiss on her knuckles. A quick bite to the tip of her tongue was all that kept her from gasping. His lips were even colder than his hands, and left a chill in her she could not place. When he straightened, he offered her a large bouquet of red roses. “Please forgive me that I do not have something more fitting, Miss [LN],” he said smoothly, “I did not realize I would win such a prize this evening.”

Their eyes were all upon her, she realized, watching and appraising. She was being judged, but she did not know by what rubric. “They’re lovely,” she said, all propriety. “They remind me of the ones in the vases outside.”

Count Galvus’s face twitched momentarily as his smile faltered, and the couple behind him began to laugh uproariously. Internally, [FN] winced. They were not the ones she had to contend with.

“I fear I must ask you to forgive me,” she said to the Count. “I did not mean to disparage your thoughtfulness.”

He shook his head. “‘Tis nothing. Where are my manners. May I introduce my good friend, Lord Magnai Oronir, and his wife, Rynn.”

[FN] extended her hand, and the taller gentleman kissed it quickly, while Rynn took her hand and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks in the continental style. They were both as cold as Count Galvus, and she wondered if an unseasonable storm was approaching. She had not been outside since she’d arrived the day before. 

“Don’t be so nervous,” Lady Oronir said as she stepped back into her husband’s arms. “I was in your shoes a year ago, when my darling Magnai purchased me. Solus may be strange -”

“Half-feral,” Magnai corrected, with a toothy grin at the Count.

“- but he is well aware that if he should let any real harm befall you, he will answer to me.” She continued smoothly.

“Answer to his creditors, more like. They’re not going to extend that kind of capital again.” Magnai smirked. 

Solus rolled his eyes. “Regardless,” he turned to the clerk. “Are we settled?”

“We are,” the clerk replied. “Miss [LN]’s things are packed, and we can have a footman load them onto your carriage when you’re prepared.”

“Very good. See to it.” The Count did not take his eyes off her. “We’ll be leaving immediately.”

“Could I have my coat?” [FN] asked. “Please. While this dress is lovely, I fear I will catch a chill.”

“And her letter of credit,” Rynn added. “We’ll need to make sure that’s in order.”

“Of course,” the clerk bowed, and headed out. 

Once he was gone, Solus turned to the Lady Oronir. “Letter of credit?”

She nodded. “Half the purchase price, less administrative fees.” Her smile fell on [FN]. “Solus’s inability to resist your charms has made you a very wealthy woman.”

“I can resist her perfectly well,” he said, turning his head away petulantly.

“Says the man who didn’t want us to come in here so you could ravish her at the first opportunity,” Magnai snorted. “Worry not, girl. We will at least see you safely back to our manor, though we can make no guarantees for your chastity once you reach Amaurot.”

“Amaurot?” she asked quizzically.

“My estate,” Solus clarified, “on the moors.”

* * *

[FN] did not fall asleep until just after midnight, as the carriage rattled its way through the countryside. She slumped against Solus, and he found his mouth watering at the heat of her body and the scent of her skin. He wanted to have her there in the carriage, Oronir and his wife be damned, but he needed to feed on something else first. He had not realized, in his other pursuits, how infrequently he had been eating in Renfield’s final months, and despite his enjoyment of last night’s footman, he still felt ravenous.

“Christ, Solus,” Magnai said. “If you leered at her any harder I’d call the constable.”

“Like you haven’t spent the last hour leering at your wife,” he countered.

“She likes it,” he shrugged. “Besides, I married her. I can do what I like.” He leaned closer and brushed his fangs along Rynn’s neck and she giggled.

Solus raised his eyes toward the starlit sky. “Save us from newlyweds, I beg you.”

“What are you going to do?” Rynn asked, softly, while Magnai availed himself of her exposed shoulder.

He politely kept his eyes averted, which gave him an excuse to stare at [FN]. “What I said I would do. I will set her up as my housekeeper, to manage the estate and my affairs as well as the other servants.” He made a vague gesture towards the carriage following them. “I suppose I should take a more active interest in my affairs.”

“Strange,” Magnai said, and licked his wife’s blood from his lips. “I thought you merely intended to replace Renfield, then return to your compositions.”

“She’ll have to be trained, first. That will be tedious.” His eyes focused on her wrist, and he pressed his fingers to it, revelling in her steady heartbeat. 

“When do you plan to tell her?” Rynn asked as Magnai pulled her into his lap.

“I…” Solus began, but he glanced up at them and scowled. “Oh, come on, I’m literally sitting right here. So is [FN]. Have some decency. I’ve been polite enough to wait until I’ve got some privacy with her, you can damn well do the same.”

The two of them exchanged a quick, passionate kiss, and Magnai carefully put his wife back where he’d found her on the carriage seat beside him. “I want it on record that I’m abstaining out of respect for the young lady, not out of any kindness to you,” he said. “But you haven’t answered Rynn’s question.”

“I have no intentions of telling her directly. If she suspects, so be it.”

“And what if she decides to do something about it?” Lady Oronir countered. “A few loose words, even a joke, and a handful of men with stakes and axes and torches will be on your estate within a few weeks.”

“I’ll just have to make her fall desperately in love with me.” He said. “Then, if she does happen upon the truth, she’ll act to protect me.”

“Yes,” Magnai mocked. “Because a virginal young woman of high morals is going to fall in love with the man who bought her at a veritable meat market, and immediately avails himself of her body and puts her to work.”

“How can she be of high morals, she was up for _sale_,” he countered.

Rynn’s gaze was icy and disapproving. “So was I. And I can tell you now, if she walked onto that stage a virgin, then the circumstances that lead her there were dire indeed. Maybe if you stopped petting her like a favored kitten you’d open your eyes.” The lady pointed to the hand whose wrist he’d been stroking. “No calluses, so she’s not used to hard labor.” She pointed to the ends of the white shift, dangling from the bottom of the coat. “White silk, not undyed linen.” 

Magnai nodded. “Your prize is either of noble birth or from a wealthy family, and fallen on hard times _recently_. And they must be very hard times if her good name was not enough to catch her a quick convenient marriage.”

“Or what Morgan said was the truth, and she had an unkind family,” Rynn countered. “Regardless, I would be very, very careful, Count Galvus. She is probably smarter than you give her credit for.”

* * *

Lady Oronir shook [FN] awake as they rattled into the courtyard of a large country estate. “This is my stop, I fear, love. Might my husband and I call upon you in a few days time? See how you’re acclimating?”

She nodded, then belatedly glanced to the Count for permission, but he was brooding and staring out the far window.

“Don’t mind him,” Lord Magnai said with a smile. “He’ll let me drop by whenever I please. And if I see aught is amiss, I will make him answer for it in the courtyard.”

“Thank you,” [FN] mumbled, and blushed shyly. 

Rynn leaned forward and hugged the girl tightly to her chest. “We’re sending one of our grooms back with you, to direct your new driver. If he does anything you don’t like, let the groom know, and he will bring you to us straight away.”

Magnai patted [FN]’s head gently. “He’s not so bad, once you get through to him.” The strange man grinned. “It’s getting through to him that’s the trick.”

“You know, I am right here,” Count Galvus said dryly. 

“I know.” Magnai’s grin was toothy. “Why do you think I’ve said it?”

“I’ll see you soon,” Lady Oronir said, and gave her another hug, then made her way toward the manor, her husband in her wake.

* * *

Twenty minutes before dawn, the carriage rattled into another courtyard, and Solus climbed out, before motioning for a footman to help [FN]. Without looking back, he strode to the front door, unlocking it, then turned to see she was creeping along the gravel pathway, measuring each step carefully.

“Can you not walk normally, girl?” He called. It was too close to sunrise. He didn’t have time for this.

“S-sorry,” Her pace picked up, but only a little. “I don’t have any shoes on.”

Of course she wouldn’t. They had been in such a hurry to get back they had barely given her time to pull on her coat, not seek her shoes out in her suitcases. And now he didn’t have time for her to search either. With a groan of frustration he descended the steps and swept her into his arms, carrying her across the threshold and into the manor. He went to put her down, but stopped and stared at her.

[FN] was watching him with bright eyes from beneath long lashes. He could feel the heat of her through his clothing, pulsing in time to her tremulous heartbeat, and the scent of her vitality was intoxicating. _Just a taste,_ he told himself. _Just a single, tiny taste._

Solus bent his head and kissed her roughly, taking advantage of her shock to press his fangs gently into the inner surface of her lower lip, and let his roving tongue swipe away the tiny drops that welled there. Then, with every ounce of self-control that he could muster, he set her away from himself, planting her firmly on her feet on the tile floor. “I will…” God in heaven, she was delicious. Even without the gnawing hunger, he knew she would be something to be savored. He took a deep, steadying breath. “I will seek you out when I awaken. Until then, you and the others should get some rest, and familiarize yourself with the grounds.” 

“Count Galvus,” she began, “I -”

“Save it,” he said harshly. “The first rule - do _not_ interfere with my rest unless the manor is literally burning.” He forced open the door to the basement and paused. He did not want those to be the last words he spoke to her today.

Solus turned back, and looked at her, the first rays of the morning sun catching the shift and rendering it near translucent, while the thick coat hid everything indecent from his gaze. She was like an angel, illuminated by the only circle of light in the still-dark foyer. He sighed, and rubbed his forehead. “Welcome to Amaurot, [FN].” 

Then he shut and locked the door firmly behind him.


	3. Call me Solus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus fumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A soft chapter before we get into the real vampire fun.

Magnai’s bedchamber always entranced Rynn. Stepping through the door was like entering another world, leaving behind the England of her living years and entering the far Orient she’d only heard about from street performers or read about in pamphlets. 

Thick embroidered silks in vibrant colors hung along the walls, blotting out any errant sunlight that might slip through the painted-over windows. Magnai himself was already nude, frowning impatiently on the wide bed covered in the furs of creatures she’d only seen sketches of.

“Did you get enough?” he asked. She knew what he meant. Now that she was his, he wanted to feed solely from her, which required her to gorge herself on blood from living vessels. She didn’t mind. The thought of his fangs in another woman’s throat filled her with anger, and she was content that his hunger would drive him back into her arms three or four times a night. With Solus’s untimely interruption, she knew she’d get no rest today, not with that maddened, possessive look in her husband’s eyes.

Rynn climbed onto the bed and Magnai pushed her onto her back, opening her robe and leaving her body exposed to him. With greedy hands he pushed apart her knees and thrust into her without foreplay or pre-amble. He only played the cuntstruck fool outside this room, but she knew the truth. She knew what he was, and how completely she was his.

“Tell me of the night I bought you,” he ordered, and sank his teeth into her shoulder, leaving long, jagged tears every time he thrust, and gorging himself on the still-hot blood that flowed from her.

“I was terrified,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around him and savoring the mingled pleasure and pain of being owned, so completely, by her husband. “And you were terrifying...”

* * *

[FN] frowned at the door Count Galvus had just vanished through. She was surprised at the sudden kiss. From what she’d seen, he was, at best, irritated with her, despite Lord Oronir’s comment that he wanted to ravish her. Still, the kiss itself was strange. Sharp, in a way she couldn’t define, and she felt her bottom lip swelling, despite the fact that she couldn’t find a split.

“M-miss,” a feminine voice behind her said, and she turned to find the five servants Solus had hired under indentured contracts watching her anxiously. “Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

She scratched her head and thought a moment. “Well, he bought us all for a reason. What are your talents?”

With a little help from the groom Lady Rynn had sent along, they soon had everyone sorted. Merritt, a tall older man, and well educated, had been assigned the role of butler, to oversee the household outside of those duties that [FN] would handle. Sterling, apparently, had worked with horses his whole life, and cooked as a hobby. As no one else had skill in the kitchens, he was assigned the role of both cook and stablemaster. Fletcher was younger than [FN], even, and so was given the job of page, though in truth he would merely handle whatever labor was required of him at any given time.

The two women, Kitty and Martha, had both served as maids before, and so [FN] left it up to them how they would handle the various cleaning and laundry. “And,” she finished bitterly, “I will handle Count Galvus, I suppose.” 

The Oronirs’ groom, Douglas, patted her shoulder gently. “It’ll be fine, Miss [LN]. I was about when Lord Magnai brought home her ladyship. It’ll take a few days of getting used to each other, and then you’ll be thick as thieves.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,” she replied.

Douglas winked. “I am not at liberty to say much, mind, but take it from me. ‘Tis a damn sight better to be on his good side than his bad.”

“Have you met Lord Solus before?” Kitty asked.

The groom shrugged. “Once or twice. I’ve served Lord Magnai for a decade, since I was naught but a stableboy. He and the Count were old friends, even then, though Lord Solus is rude as they come, beg your pardon.”

[FN] glanced back at the locked door. “How long do you think I have?”

Swallowing, Douglas said, “If I had to guess? ‘Til sunset, at least. If I were you I’d get some rest until then.”

Merritt nodded in agreement. “We can handle the household till then.”

“There are some bedrooms upstairs. I’m sure you’ll find one to your liking.” Douglas pointed to the stairs at the back of the foyer, then turned. “Come on, Sterling. Those horses haven’t eaten in a day or two and are going to be right nasty.”

On the second floor, [FN] found a number of large bedrooms covered in dust. The one she picked had a wall of windows facing the west, that would catch the sunset in all its brilliant colors. She pulled the tattered, moth-eaten blankets off, then slammed her hand on the mattress a few times, but no bugs came out, so she determined it well enough for now, and crawled in, pulling the coat over herself like a blanket, and fell asleep.

* * *

Solus opened the door from the basement into the foyer, and saw Magnai’s groom leaning against the wall waiting for him.

“Lord Solus,” he said. “Lady Rynn thought you might want to eat before you see her.”

“I assume you’ve served this way before?” he asked quietly.

The groom nodded. “I had a quiet word with Sterling, as well. He’ll do.”

“Sterling?” Solus asked in confusion. 

“Your stablemaster. Miss [FN] has ordered everything quite well.” 

Solus stepped out of the doorway, and gestured for the other man to come in. “That is what I bought her for.”

“Is it?” the groom seemed amused. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

* * *

[FN] woke to a sharp rap on the door, and a moment later, it opened. Count Galvus strode in and looked around. “Well enough, I suppose. Have you eaten?”

“N-no,” she stammered. “I just woke.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Douglas told me you assigned Sterling to be the cook?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Is that acceptable?”

He waved a hand. “I’ve no objections. I’ll have a word with him about the kinds of food you’ll need to eat.”

“I’ll… need to eat?” She furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Quite. You appear to be suffering from severe anemia, so you’ll require a rather specific diet to keep up your strength.”

“My physician never mentioned anemia before…” she murmured.

“Your physician?” he asked.

“Yes? My health has always been good.”

Solus rubbed his face with his hand. “Well, I suspect you have anemia, and it will make me feel better if you eat a diet rich in iron.”

“Very well,” she said.

“Very well?” the Count seemed confused. “You’re not going to argue.”

“I’m not really in a position to argue. You bought me.” She tried not to think about how humiliating it was.

“Quite.” He stared at her for a few moments. “I suppose this is the point where I am supposed to delineate what I expect from this arrangement.”

“It would help immensely,” she said.

“Fine.” He sighed and flopped into one of the dusty armchairs. “Have a seat.” 

[FN] carefully positioned herself on the corner of the bed.

“I am a composer, so I generally value my privacy. However, I am also a man, and plagued by the passions of my sex. As such, I will occasionally, usually once a week, sometimes more, sometimes less, demand your attendance on me. You needn’t worry about becoming some expert on sexuality. I merely require your submission while I see to my own needs with your body, and your discretion regarding what seeing to those needs will entail.” His eyes raked over her body, and she swallowed nervously. “If anything I do hurts you in a way you do not enjoy, please inform me at once. While your comfort is not really my concern, nor is your discomfort my goal. I would prefer this arrangement be as painless as possible for both of us.”

“And when you no longer want me?” she asked weakly.

“If that day should come, then you will retire to merely being in charge of my affairs, and I will secure another young lady for those purposes. If for some reason we determine this arrangement does not work at all, I will grant you your freedom, and you may pursue any life you wish.” The Count raised a hand to his mouth and stared at the darkened fireplace. “I am sorry if this is not the life you had hoped for, but it is the one I require of you.”

“It is better than what might have been, so I have little room to complain,” she replied.

“At least you are pragmatic about it. That’s a blessing. Provided you see to my needs and my requests without question - no matter how strange they may seem - you may act as lady of the manor and avail yourself of anything and everything it affords. You will see me little, as I tend to be a night owl.” 

[FN] didn’t know why the idea made her sad, but she nodded anyway. “And if I find myself with child?”

He frowned. “I am sterile, so it should not happen, but just to be clear, I expect complete fidelity from you. No one else may enjoy your favors.” Lord Solus drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “If the Lord himself should descend and make of you a second miraculous birth through my seed, then we will re-evaluate our position. But as that will not happen, I do not feel it worth the mental energy such a supposition requires.”

“Should I expect that same fidelity from you?” she did not look at him when she asked. 

“I may take other companions, but you will be the only one I engage in sexual intercourse with, yes. If that changes, I will inform you, and take appropriate steps to safeguard your health.” He stood, and dusted himself off. “Now, it has been some time since I have enjoyed the pleasures of a woman, and per the details of the auction, it is your first time in general. Why don’t we go and get the worst over with, so that you needn’t fear your life with me?”

“Where will we go?” She asked quietly, but stood and took his hand.

“My chambers,” he replied, leading her out the door. “They’re a damn sight cleaner besides.”

He took her down the stairs and into the locked door, the one that had figured so prominently in her dozing dreams throughout the day. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t what she found. Beyond the first room, a small parlor, was a bedroom with a large antique bed. It was heaped high with blankets and pillows, all in pristine white. The sheer bed curtains alone, embroidered with roses in thin white thread, must have cost more than everything in her suitcase combined, save the letter of credit.

Solus left her at the bedside and began to undress himself. [FN] turned her back and covered her face with her hands. Was she really going to do this? Give her virginity to this reclusive Count? Give up on her childhood dreams of being loved and cared for?

It was his hands on her shoulders that startled her out of her personal turmoil. “I’m sorry!” she cried out reflexively, and cowered from him. “Forgive me, I… I…” 

“[FN],” he said tenderly, and pulled her against his chest. “You have no reason to be frightened of me. I don’t want to do you any lasting harm.”

“Of course, I mean…” The muscles of his chest were cold and hard as marble beneath her cheek. “I didn’t think you did, I just…”

“Magnai was right. I am an idiot.” He said quietly, and she realized he was stroking her hair. “I’ve been going about this all wrong. Can we start over?”

“What do you mean?” [FN] asked, and pulled back a step to look up at him.

“Upstairs. I thought you would prefer it if I played the villain. I’ve read that women prefer that.” He sighed. “So I offered you something cold, and now you’re more afraid than you were before. I would like to make another attempt.”

“I would prefer you just be honest with me,” she said. “I need to know what my place in your world is supposed to be.”

“I will be as honest as I can,” he offered. “There are some secrets… I’m just not ready to divulge yet.”

“All right. But other than that.”

Solus nodded. “I will not lie to you. I may not tell you the whole truth, but I will not lie to you from here on out. That is the best I can offer.” His gold eyes were pleading. 

“So,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. “What do you want with me?”

The Count lifted her off the ground and placed her in the bed, then climbed in beside her. “I want you to love me. Not just with your body, but with your heart, your soul, your mind. I want you to be desperately devoted to me.”

“And what about you?” She asked. “Are you going to tell me you love me already, even though we’ve just met?”

“Yes. The moment I saw you on that stage, I knew I had to have you. I could not countenance you leaving that place with another. The thought of it enraged me,” she realized he had his hand on her arm, and was clenching it tightly. “It enrages me still.” He carefully released his fingers, one by one, and stroked her skin with his knuckles. “Forgive me. I know that you may not be prone to my passions, and will need time. But I do hunger for you.”

She swallowed. “I understand. I…” [FN] closed her eyes. “I do find you attractive, Count Galvus, but -”

“Please,” he bit his lip. “When we are alone together, let us cast aside titles and pretense. Call me Solus.”

“All right, Solus,” she said, and searched his face for offense, but he only smiled. “As I was saying… I do find you attractive, but I am not ready to… to…” [FN] blushed deeply. “We are unmarried, and while I don’t expect marriage from this, as that was not in the terms under which you purchased me, I think I need more time to warm up to the idea of allowing myself to be deflowered like that.” She swallowed. “Three days ago I was home and had no idea that Mr. Morgan’s auctions even existed.”

His face darkened a moment. “Then the Oronirs were right about you. Whatever happened, happened recently.” He lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it softly. “Will you tell me?”

She shrugged. “It is much as Mr. Morgan said. My stepmother squandered the inheritance my parents left for me, and had to cut expenses. I - being not her child, and not her husband’s child - was deemed an unnecessary expense. She heard Mr. Morgan could find work for young women so they would not be destitute, and practically dropped me on his doorstep. The auction was the next evening.”

Solus made a noise in his throat. “Very well. I can give you some time before I have you completely. But might we compromise?”

“What do you have in mind?” [FN] watched him warily.

“I would like to be able to kiss you when I please,” he said, staring at her shoulders. “I want to be able to touch you and hold you. So… I will not take your virginity, yet, but I can have the rest?”

“The rest?” she asked, in confusion. 

He laughed. “There are so many ways we can bring each other pleasure without taking you - though do not misunderstand, I want that, too.”

It was a fair compromise, to her mind. [FN] would keep her virtue as long as possible, while he would get the physical intimacy he seemed to crave. She sighed. “All right. So long as my virtue remains intact long enough for me to learn to love you.”

“Can I taste you, [FN]?” he asked, running his over her hips through the shift. “I spent all day dreaming of it.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to try to calm her nerves. “Yes.” Then she closed her eyes and leaned toward him.

* * *

Solus watched in [FN] in fascination. She wore every emotion on her sleeve, and responded to delightfully to everything he said and did. And now, she leaned toward him, expecting a kiss. It amused him, that she thought that was what he’d meant. Instead, he put an arm around her and pulled her close, letting his lips fall to the fluttering pulse in her neck. 

He heard her gasp, and felt her body tense as he slid his fangs into her delicate skin, then she went limp as her blood welled from the wound and filled his mouth. It tasted like heaven, like the sweet diluted wines of his childhood, laced with honey and fruit juice, and gods above he could not get enough. He had fed from the groom in an attempt to slake his thirst but it was nothing, a drop in the ocean of unchecked _need_ he had for [FN]. Every one of her heartbeats pushed more of her vital essence into him, and he felt her warmth spread through his body, intoxicating him. His cock was hard already, and he longed to press it into her while he drank, to fill her as she filled him.

_Not yet,_ he reminded himself. _Not until she wants it._

Waiting was going to be torture, but it was a torture Solus longed for. With deliberate gentleness, he withdrew his fangs, and kissed the mark on her neck, letting his saliva heal the tiny pinpricks he left on her.

She looked up at him, her skin pale but her cheeks flushed. _Good,_ he thought. _If she can still blush, I have not taken too much._ He licked his teeth clean quickly, then kissed her soundly, trying to leverage millenia of practice to sweep her off her feet.


	4. Whatever Way I Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Oronirs come for a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! As it's the last week of Spooktober I'm probably gonna be hyperfocusing this fic for a bit! Let me know what you think!

While [FN] slept in the plush, oversized bed, tiny and doll-like amidst the sheets, Solus returned to the upstairs areas, and summoned the servants to him. Despite the late hour, they all arrived within a few moments, watching him warily.

“You all know where I acquired you, and [FN] so I’m not going to mince words or try to pretend I’m so desperately kind gentleman. All of us will have a much more profitable working relationship if we can at least have a modicum of honesty.” He set his household ledger down on the dining room table. “Please, take a seat.”

Once they were all settled, he folded his hands over the ledger. “While in my employ, you may see and hear things that are strange, upsetting, or even outright alarming. You will almost certainly be tested with regards to your faith and convictions. You know that I purchased [FN] [LN] in an unscrupulous auction. You know what usually happens to the women that enter that auction. While I’ve no intent to kill her at this time, that may change.”

“I require three things from servants in my household - absolute loyalty, absolute discretion, and absolute obedience.” He drummed his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “So long as I have those three things, I can guarantee you will all leave my employ far wealthier than your peers. I am happy to entertain reasonable requests, and very generous with both wages and time off compared to others of my rank. I am going to ask each of you a series of questions, and I want honest answers. If my terms are not amenable to you, then you are free to leave, with severance and a glowing reference. I am also happy to secure employment for you elsewhere, but you will not find terms as lenient as mine.”

“We’ll start with you,” he turned to the petite blonde woman, trembling like a lamb in a thunderstorm. “Your name?” 

“Kitty, m’lord.”

He nodded, and wrote that down. “Why did you sell yourself into an indentured contract, Kitty?”

She swallowed, and looked about the room. The others looked at their hands.

“My husband died, sir. He had some debts. It was this or a debtor’s prison.” She touched a handkerchief to her eyes and looked away.

“Have those debts been settled?” Solus was already filling out rows and columns in a neat, military hand.

“Yes,” Kitty was twisting the handkerchief between nervous fingers.

“Very well. We’ll start your wages at fifty pounds a year, half to go towards the contract, the other half to go to you as wages. You will also receive one week’s leave each month, but that must be taken during the time of your monthly courses.” He smiled apologetically. “I am discomfited by women’s bleeding, and I would prefer not to deal with it when absolutely necessary. Sadly, in [FN]’s case, it is absolutely necessary as I intend to have her as my lover.” Solus sighed. “But it isn’t necessary in yours.”

It was a lie, of course. The truth was that it was hard to concentrate when the smell of blood wafted through the house, and his thirst was bad enough as it was.

Kitty blushed, but nodded shyly. “Of course, my lord.”

“Are these terms acceptable to you?” 

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good,” He turned to the brunette woman, “And you?”

He soon learned much of his new servants. 

Martha had three children living with her mother, but couldn’t feed them all after her husband ran out with another woman, so she’d arranged for them to receive the money from her contract’s sale.

The boy, Fletcher, had killed the foreman at the workhouse he had been assigned to, and fled into Mr. Morgan’s Auction House to escape the law. 

Merritt had been a butler at a different nobleman’s estate, but had developed unseemly affections for the nobleman himself. The man’s wife had found out, so he had thought it better to end his service than deal with those issues, but found that without a good reference or much money, he didn’t have anywhere to go.

That left Sterling. The man said few words, only that he’d worked with horses most of his life, and had cooked for his mother before she passed. His eyes appraised Solus carefully, and he remembered what Douglas had said - he’d had a _quiet word_ with Sterling about Solus’s unique needs. 

He coughed. “Very good. Let me go over some of my expectations, and initial tasks I have for you. Merritt,” his new butler glanced up, still slightly in shock from the exorbitant salary he was being offered. “You will secure a groundskeeper and a cook for us. Remember what I am looking for in a servant. Martha, Kitty, I would like you two to begin a thorough cleaning of the manor, from top to bottom, save the basement. That is my domain and where I do my work and the _only_ people permitted there are [FN] and myself. If I am down there, do not disturb me unless the manor is _literally_ on fire.”

“Sterling, I’d like you to do an inventory of the stables, and come up with a plan for the best care of the horses. As well, I would like you to take time and interview the rest of the staff regarding their dietary preferences and requirements, and make a report on that to be given to the new cook once Merritt has hired them. Fletcher,” the boy looked up, shocked. “You will assist where asked by the rest of the household, but besides that, your job is to see to [FN]’s safety outside the walls of this manor. I’d like you to do it discreetly. If she goes to town, you either convince her to let you accompany her, or follow her. You will report to me all of her activity - who she speaks to, what they speak about, anything you can learn. Any detail, no matter how small, is important.”

Solus ran a hand through his hair. “In general - my goal is to have [FN] fall in love with me as quickly as possible. Anything and everything you do toward that goal is welcome. I am open to ideas and suggestions.”

They looked at each other strangely, then Douglas coughed. “Forgive the interjection, my lord, but that depends heavily on what your goals for your relationship with [FN] are. Is she to be a servant? Your mistress? Your wife?” The Oronir’s groom shrugged. “These things will determine the kind of love she must have for you.”

“I don’t particularly care. So long as I can have her in whatever way I desire.” He snapped the book shut, and stormed out of the room, ignoring the growing smirk on the man’s face.

* * *

[FN] woke to the sound of a piano being played in another room. Someone had set a small plate of food and a glass of wine on a small table, with a folded scrap of paper.

She took the note gently and unfolded it.

_[FN]_

_I knew you were anemic. Eat this, drink some wine, and get some rest. I’ll be working, so do not disturb me._

_-Solus_

She smiled at the way he wrote his ‘u’s like little ‘v’s, in the old-fashioned style, and took a sip of the wine - heady and sweet, a type she’d never had before. She found she liked it, and cradled the glass in her hands as she picked at the meal and listened to this strange nobleman play. Then just as suddenly, the music stopped, and she heard a crash.

* * *

Solus’s fingers rattled easily through the omnibus of music he had memorized over the millenia. Ancient songs unheard since before the birth of the Christian messiah, to the latest pieces being bandied about London flowed from the instrument before him, as he let his mind wander on its own.

He tried to slake his thirst for her on the bottle of _vin santo_ whenever the pieces called for him to have a hand free, but he found it only made him hunger for more. He longed to consume her, to drink deeply of all she was until he was sated, but he couldn’t. Not yet. There was some work that could not be left to servants, no matter how loyal. Their morality might turn a blind eye to his use of [FN] but they would have a harder time when she began luring people here for his use. She and Sterling would not be enough to keep him fed for long without both of them suffering from ill health.

He froze as he transitioned from an Etruscan love song to a concerto by Wölfl - he hadn’t played that song in years. What criteria was he using to pick them? He wracked his brain and grimaced. The past hour had been nothing but love songs, and things he hoped would impress her. A sudden grip of anger seized him, and he threw the bottle across the room letting it shatter dramatically on the far wall.

* * *

Three nights later, just as they had promised, Lord and Lady Oronir made an appearance a few hours after sunset.

[FN] had just climbed out of the bath, and was worrying over how pale she had become, when Martha pushed open the door and curtseyed. “Count Galvus wishes for you to join him in the drawing room, miss.”

“The drawing room?” She asked curiously. When Solus had sent for her the past few nights, it had been straight to the basement for his needy kisses before he released her with a confused expression on his face, and played for hours in some kind of maddened melancholy.

Martha nodded. “You’ve guests, m’lady.”

“Oh!” she brightened, “Rynn! I’ll be right down.”

She pulled on one of the few gowns she had, a simple one of pink satin embroidered with small gold pips to look like the skin of a strawberry.

While she struggled to lace up the back, Martha came in again, and sighed. “I’ll help you, miss.” 

The maid laced her up with experienced hands while [FN] ran the boar-bristle brush through her hair. “How should I style it, do you think?”

Something flickered in Martha’s eyes. “Let me see…” She began rooting around the items that had been left about the room by it’s previous unknown owner, and found a few jeweled hair combs. “Perfect,” she murmured, then twisted [FN]’s hair up into a pile on her head, pushing the combs in to secure it, and keep it up off her neck. Martha grinned mischievously. “His Lordship will love it. Now off with you, he seemed impatient.”

[FN] thought she was blushing, but when she looked in the mirror, there was no color in her cheeks, and she sighed with relief. 

“I swear, Solus, if you have killed her, I’ll -” Rynn was threatening Count Galvus when [FN] slipped into the room. All three - Solus, Magnai, and Rynn - relaxed instantly. “There you are, my dear.” Rynn pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks, then sat back down.

Magnai gave a respectful half-bow. “Miss [FN],” he said cordially. “You look good enough to eat.” His wife pressed her lips together to suppress a smirk, but still smacked his arm with the back of her hand, and he grinned before sitting down again. 

Solus, of course, had not risen, nor did he give her a proper greeting. He gestured to the empty armchair across from him. “Sit.”

She exhaled slowly through her nose at his rudeness, but sat anyway. Fletcher entered a moment later, carrying a silver tea service and set it on the low coffee table, then gave a gangly bow. “Will there be anything else, m’lord?”

“Yes,” Solus said, ignoring the tea and drinking straight from the bottle by his side. “Bring [FN] some of whatever Sterling made for dinner.”

“Won’t Lord and Lady Oronir be joining us?” [FN] asked curiously.

“Us?” Solus said, in confusion, then shook his head. “I’ve already eaten.”

“So have we,” Rynn said in consolation. “And please, just call us Magnai and Rynn. We don't stand on ceremony with Solus, and we don’t plan to with you.”

“Oh,” her voice faltered. “I don’t want to eat in front of you, that would be rude.” 

[FN] stood to leave, and Solus’s face became petulantly angry. “I said, ‘Sit.’ I don’t care if it is rude. You will sit, and you will eat, and you will remain until I give you leave to go.”

“Solus,” Magnai began, but [FN] shook her head and returned to her seat. The Oronirs exchanged a glance before everyone was settled again. The room remained in sullen silence, with Magnai and Rynn glancing about anxiously and Solus staring at her so hard she was afraid something was wrong with her gown, until Fletcher returned with another tray, this one laden with a selection of food.

She tried to eat delicately, without drawing attention to herself, but Solus did not take his eyes off her until she set her fork down and motioned for Fletcher to take the tray. The boy seemed eager to escape, and fled with the remains of her meal without further prodding while she poured herself a cup of tea.

“How are you feeling?” Rynn asked, carefully placing a cold hand on hers. “He hasn’t been too cruel, has he?”

“No,” [FN] said meekly into her cup of tea. “He’s been very kind and understanding.”

Magnai snorted. “You should not lie, girl.”

“I’m not!” She countered, furrowing her brow. “He has been very patient with me.” Solus gave Magnai a sharp, victorious grin. “Of course, I’m still very anxious about what our relationship will one day entail…” She realized what she was implying, and looked into her teacup, sure her face must be red, but when she caught her reflection in the silver of the teapot, it was still unflushed.

“Anyway,” Solus said dismissively, flicking a hand towards [FN], “Do you two have any news? I know I have not been very active in recent years.”

Magnai nodded. “The Augurelts intend to come down for a visit in the spring when they begin their pilgrimage again.”

Solus nodded. “Will they be staying with you or with us?”

“Either,” Magnai said. “I’m not much fussed about it, though all things considered...” he glanced pointedly at [FN] and she glanced anxiously at Rynn. 

The other woman patted her hand. “The Augurelts are old friends of Magnai and Solus. They’re both very kind, if a little odd.”

“Nothing about that damn priest is a _little_ odd,” Solus said as he lifted the wine bottle to his lips again. “He married a prostitute, and the things he -”

[FN]’s hand began to shake, and all three of the others turned to face her. It was not something she wanted to think about, but his use of the term was a stark reminder. For all of Solus's kindness, for all that it had been a fortune, [FN] had sold herself for money. 

Rynn’s eyes darkened first, and she shot Solus an angry look. “I’m taking [FN] outside for a walk.” She stood, and grabbed [FN]’s arm in a grip like iron. “Magnai, handle the belligerent.”

Solus stood as the tall woman pulled her toward the door. “I didn’t say she could leave.”

Magnai shook his head. “Solus, leave it. I think you have had enough of a tantrum for one night.”

“No, I-” the rest of his words were lost to muffled shouting as Rynn firmly closed the door between them.

* * *

As soon as the women were gone, Magnai grabbed Solus by his suit coat and shook him. “You are not acting honorably, Solus. For someone who has _finally_ found his Nhaama, you do not treat her with dignity or respect.”

“Oh, Gods’ sake, Magnai, she’s not anything special, not a _nhaama_. Just a mortal girl that fell into my lap,” Solus grumbled. “Now get your hands off me. I may have conceded at Köse Dağ, but I could still kill you if I really wanted to.”

“You won’t, because I am right.” Still, Magnai dropped him, and he collapsed unceremoniously into his armchair.

“She didn’t blush once,” Magnai said. “When we brought her back here, she blushed at every other word.” Solus said nothing, but sipped from the open bottle of wine. “Solus…” he frowned. “How often have you been feeding from her?”

“[FN] is mine to do with as I please.” He did not answer the question.

“If you’ve been feeding from her every night you’ll have a corpse before the month is out.”

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

“It is my problem. My Rynn likes her. And my Nhaama has so few friends of her own, I will not let you murder one.” Magnai frowned.

“Then pay me seven and a half million pounds for her, and take the damn woman for yourself!” 

“I see the problem,” Magnai said quietly. “You went mad waiting for her. Now you do not know what to do with a blessing you thought never to receive.”

“I wasn’t waiting for anyone, you overgrown mongrel.”

“No, of course not.” Magnai sat back down and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “You’ve just followed one of your errant children around the last six hundred years because you felt like it. Nevermind that every other one of our kind is usually released after a decade or so. You just decided to buy the damn estate next door when he purchased his own home to get away from you. You then ensconced yourself in said estate for years without leaving, save to come visit me to make sure I was still waiting to dance attendance.” 

Magnai took the bottle from Solus’s hand and took a drink. “_Vin santo?_ You haven’t had this in an age.” The self-proclaimed errant child’s eyes slid back to him. “Why?”

Solus stared at the half-full teacup still sitting before [FN]’s seat, and whispered, “It’s what she tastes like.”

* * *

“Between you and I we’ve more than three-quarters of your purchase price,” Rynn said, putting an arm around [FN]’s shoulders. “I’m sure with Magnai’s help you and I could buy you out, and you could do as you like, or come stay with us.”

“I couldn’t impose,” [FN] said softly. “Besides, I want to stay with him.”

“_Want_ to stay with him?” Rynn scoffed. “He was rude! And cruel! And he’s forcing himself on you, and -”

“No,” [FN] corrected. “He’s not.”

Her eyebrows went up. “He’s not?”

The younger girl shook her head. “Solu-” she coughed. “Count Galvas has admitted he desires me, but has graciously consented to wait to… to…” [FN] put her hands to her face. “... to wait to do anything of which I would be ashamed until I’m ready,” she said in a huff, then glanced at the ground. “So I’m going to stay. It’s nice to be somewhere that I’m actually wanted, even if it’s strange, and I don’t want to lose that.”

Rynn put her hand to her mouth for a moment, then squeezed her new friend tightly. “Come on, let’s go back in before Magnai kills him.”

* * *

Solus and Magnai stood as the women returned to the room.

“Ladies,” Solus began. “You must forgive my earlier outburst, I -”

Rynn crossed the room and put her arms around Solus, squeezing him in an uncomfortable hug. The older man’s eyes darted about irritably, and settled on Magnai, while [FN] giggled. Then the other woman released him.

“Come along, Magnai,” She said. “We need to get home before it’s too late.”

Magnai bowed to his wife. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave. I believe you were apologizing, Solus, so I’ll let you get back to it.”

The Oronirs slipped out the door, leaving the other two alone. As it shut behind them with a quiet click, Solus bowed. “As I was saying, you must forgive me. I was rude and inconsiderate and took advantage of the power dynamic in our relationship to act like a spoiled child, and you were too kind to take me to task.”

[FN] waved her hand dismissively. “It’s all right, Solus. I did not realize we’d be entertaining this late, or I would have prepared. To be honest I thought they’d be coming by tomorrow when the sun was up.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “No, they know the kind of hours I keep. Magnai has ever ensured that his visits came after sundown.”

“I see. That is quite considerate of them,” she said.

The silence stretched between them awkwardly for a few moments, then Solus sighed. “Can I kiss you now, [FN]?”

“I’ve been waiting,” she replied, and he near-vaulted the table to put his arms around her. She stumbled with the force of it, and wrapped her arms around his neck to catch herself. He kissed her deeply, then pulled his lips from hers to press them chastely to her forehead. 

“[FN], I-” He was cut off as she leaned closer and pressed her lips against him, the same place he always bit her. Solus’s eyes widened at the vulnerability and intensity of her caress, and she didn’t even have fangs. It took him back, in his memory, through all the ages of mortal man, to the beginning, when Zodiark had found he and his brothers and made them what they were. 

A thousand thoughts crowded his head all at once - dreams and desires and screaming and symphonies all blended together as his arms tightened around her - and in his madness the words slipped out before he realized he’d said them.

“I want to be the only one you feed from.”


	5. Everything but Your Virtue [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Solus indulges his thirsts, and [FN] settles in at the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning**  
This chapter contains a menstruation sex scene that is described in detail. I've put embedded warnings in the chapter, if you don't want to read it. When you reach the bolded line, just keep scrolling until you see the next bolded line.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

“What?” [FN] asked, laughing softly and pulling away. “What do you mean by that?”

“F-forgive me,” Solus said, running a hand over his face. “English always fails me when I’m surprised.”

“But, ‘feed from’?” Her smile was playful.

He sighed. “I’m sure you’ve realized that I’m not actually an Englishman.”

“Well, Solus Galvus isn’t exactly a common name,” she said. “It sounds Latin.” 

He couldn’t help but realize her arms were still draped around his neck, and his were around her waist. The heat of her body seemed to burn through her gown and sear into his skin everywhere they touched. “It is,” he murmured.

“But it is your real name, yes?” [FN] laid her head on his shoulder, shifting more of her weight onto him.

“Don’t ask so many questions,” Solus replied irritably as he set her firmly away from him, back onto the carpet. “I have work to do. You should get some rest. You’re pale.”

“You’re one to talk,” she countered. 

He scowled at her, and felt his anger at how horribly this evening had gone pool upon his tongue. Only millenia of practiced self-control kept the vitriol behind his teeth. Instead, he said, “I’m going to the basement. I have no need of you tonight.” It was a lie, of course. His throat screamed with the thirst he still hadn’t sated completely. 

That was the problem, he decided. The girl was delicious, he’d give her that, and combined with his needs and Magnai’s romanticism it had almost broken him. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be taking a walk. But _you_ will go to bed, FN. I will send for you if I desire your presence again.”

* * *

Solus lingered on the edge of town, watching people come stumbling out of the public house drunk and disorderly, and waited. He knew what he was waiting for, and clutched the two bottles of _vin santo_ in one hand.

Sure enough, when it had become quiet, a young barmaid stepped out the side door, calling good-byes to her employers. She looked nothing like [FN], but in the dark? She would do. 

He slipped up behind her as she walked, as silent as the death he had always been, and placed a hand over her mouth, pulling her into the shadows.

* * *

The next day, [FN] woke around noon. Some would say Solus had been cruel the night before, but in truth, she was getting used to his mercurial moods - clinging to her like a lonely child one moment, pushing her away and ridiculing her for her affection the next. He had some things to understand about himself, first, she decided, before she could rely on him for anything resembling sanity.

Still, she’d slept so much the past few days, it was nice to have some time to actually explore her new home.

As she stepped out of her room, she found Martha and Kitty scrubbing the stairs.

“Oh!” Kitty said, and hopped to her feet. “Lady [FN]. You’re up! Sterling’s finishing up our luncheon now. Would you like me to bring you some?”

“I’m not a lady, and that won’t be necessary,” [FN] replied. “Do you two need some help?” She reached for one of the rags in the bucket.

Martha shook her head and waved away the girl’s hand. “Count Galvus was quite clear. You’re to eat, and you’re to rest. Take the air if you like, but nothing strenuous.”

[FN] sighed, and sat on the step for a moment, then snatched one of the rags when the dark-haired woman wasn’t looking. Martha called after her in exasperation, but Kitty laughed, and in the end all three of them scrubbed the stairs, though Martha and Kitty still did the lion’s share of the work. 

As they sat on the ground floor, giggling, [FN] held up one of the cloths, a light weight cotton printed with flowers. “He has flower-printed rags?” For some reason the thought made her laugh even harder, tears springing to her eyes. 

Martha and Kitty laughed as well, but shook their heads. “No, ma’am,” Kitty said. “When we were cleaning in the attic - There was a bed with flower-printed sheets. We couldn’t find the rest of the set, so decided to make them rags. It was an old set anyway, so if the others turn up we’ll just make them rags, too.”

“Well enough,” she said. “Do you think Sterling has -”

A loud, grumpy cough could be heard from the hallway, and all three turned to see Merritt standing in the entry to the rest of the ground floor. “Martha, Kitty. I was under the impression that Count Galvus was _quite_ clear regarding the resting Lady [FN] was supposed to be doing.”

“I’m not a lady,” she repeated, and climbed to her feet. “And please, don’t be cross with them. I stole the rag, and they only let me do a little so I wouldn’t complain.”

Merritt gave her a paternal smile and patted her head. “Regardless, Lord Solus has given instruction that you are to be treated as the lady of the house. _And_ that you should be resting. But come, lunch is ready, I’ll bring some to you in the dining room.”

Though she tried to protest, [FN] soon found herself seated at Solus’s grand table, with a hearty meal and a cup of tea. Fletcher stood by wordlessly, left to attend on her while the other servants ate quickly in the kitchen, then got back to work.

“Fletcher,” she asked when she was full. “I want to go into town.”

“We’ve been instructed to have you rest, ma’am,” he replied, his voice breaking partway through.

“Well, what do you think will be more restful - a visit to whatever little town is nearby, or a day spent trying to slip the lot of you?” [FN] gave him a kind smile. “You could come with me, to make sure I don’t do anything too strenuous?”

“We’d have to get Sterling to lend us the carriage…” Fletcher said.

* * *

Sterling proved surprisingly amenable to the idea, and even offered to drive them into town. “I’ve got to get some things for the horses besides, ‘twouldn’t be any trouble.” The look he gave [FN] unnerved her slightly - his eyes lingered a little too long, as if he was assessing her. Still, she had her way out of the house, and wasn’t going to complain. 

As they rode up on the village, a crowd had gathered outside the public house, and a constable was addressing the crowd. Sterling pulled to a stop, and [FN] climbed out, with Fletcher uttering nervous complaints about how she needed to wait to be assisted.

“-any sign of Stella Brown are encouraged to report it immediately.” The man shouted as [FN] stopped at the edge of the crowd. 

“What’s going on?” she asked Sterling.

He shook his head. “I’ll inquire m’lady. Fletcher, keep an eye on her.”

The boy nodded. “Right.”

[FN] watched as the tall, broad shouldered stablemaster approached the front of the crowd, and had a quiet conversation with the constable. His face darkened, and then he came back towards the two of them. “It seems a young woman vanished in the middle of the night, on her way home from her work as a barmaid at the public house. They’re out searching for her now.”

“Solu-” She coughed. “Count Galvus took a stroll last night, we could ask -” 

Sterling pressed a finger to his lips. “You can ask him yourself, at home, but don’t discuss it here.”

“Oh…” she murmured. “All right.”

He nodded. “I’m going to see to the horses and a few supplies. Fletcher, you stay with Lady [FN]. I want both of you back here in an hour. Lord Solus will be cross if you are not home when he awakens.”

[FN] got a few small errands done. She made an appointment for a seamstress to come see her at Amaurot, bought a few of the more exotic types of tea, and two dozen small pots. One for each of the roses Solus had bought her on their first meeting.

They returned to the manor just as the sun began its descent towards the horizon, and [FN] gathered up the bouquet, now beginning to shed its petals and droop, and took it with her downstairs. She remembered her father’s gardener teaching her when she was young, how to make rose bushes from a cutting. And there were no red roses at Amaurot. She would fix that.

* * *

Solus exited the basement just as [FN] was coming inside, smelling of roses and petrichor and soil and something else, something masked by the other things clinging to her skin. Her simple dress was smeared with dirt, but her cheeks were slightly flushed again.

“You were supposed to be resting,” he said. “What have you gotten all over yourself?”

“I was in the garden,” she said, “And dirt. I was tending the roses.”

“I don’t have roses,” he countered.

She laughed. “You do now.”

He groaned. “Go clean yourself up, eat some dinner, then meet me in the basement.”

[FN] nodded, then headed up the stairs. As she walked away, he could smell it on her, so very faint. 

Blood.

* * *

**Author’s Note: The next part of this chapter is the lead up to and a sex scene that includes menstruation. I know some readers may not be cool with that, even if they’re down for the ‘normal’ vampire smut. If you want to skip over it, just scroll until the next bolded line.**

* * *

[FN] pulled her dress off over her head and grumbled. She’d gotten dirtier than she’d planned, and would have to apologize to Kitty and Martha for the extra work her laundry would be. Her apology redoubled as she pulled down her bloomers and saw the telltale red spots that marked the beginning of her monthly cycle. With a muttered curse, she rang the bell for a servant to come attend her. 

Kitty arrived a moment later, and curtseyed. “We’re still heating the water for your bath, ma’am.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said. “Could you take a message to Solus? Er, Count Galvus?”

“Of course,” the woman nodded.

“Can you give him my apologies, and tell him I cannot join him this evening due to women’s difficulties?” She frowned anxiously in naught but her shift. “I’ve got my belt and such.”

Kitty blushed a rosy pink, and nodded. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll prepare some extra hot water bottles for your bed.”

“Thank you,” [FN] said, and fished about in her small valise for her belt and cloths for a few minutes, before she heard the door open behind her, and close again. “Just set the bath by the fire,” she said, but dropped the fabric bundled in her hand when Solus pushed her bedroom door shut behind himself and locked it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting it for another day or two.”

“You told me I could have everything but your virtue,” his voice was hoarse, and he had that mad, untamed look in his eye again. “Is that still true?”

“Of course, but -” Her words were cut off as he was suddenly leaning over her, pressing her into the armoire, her wrists in his hands. He had been across the room, how had he moved so fast? When Solus kissed her, it was painful, greedy even, and she could feel his teeth scraping against her tongue.

“I told you before, I have some… eccentricities.” His lips moved to her throat, but he did not kiss her as intensely as he usually did. “This is one of them. I’ll thank you not to tell others of what is going to happen tonight.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Th-the servants…”

“I sent them away. Your bath will be waiting when I am through with you,” he hissed. “And your virtue will be intact, regardless of _my_ desires.”

Her heart quickened strangely in her chest. “I’m sorry,” [FN] whispered. “I don’t know what you want. But if I can give it to you without losing my virginity, then I will.”

Solus nodded and tugged her toward the bed. “Just remove your shift and lie back. I will take care of the rest.”

She did so nervously, with a mild wince at the mess that was going to be left on the sheets and blankets. She would have to help with the washing tomorrow. Still, Solus had done so much for her already - letting her wait, worrying over her health, seeing she was cared for - that [FN] did not feel she could refuse him an indulgence or two. With her eyes closed, she settled back into the blankets and tried to relax. Then he was on her.

Solus pushed apart her knees and began to kiss his way down her thigh, and she thought her face would melt off her skull with how hard she was blushing. The idea of a man so close to her unmentionables was bad enough. But seeing her like this? During her indelicacy? She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to think of being anywhere else. That evaporated when his arms encircled her thighs, and a primal growl passed his lips before he descended on her.

His tongue was just as greedy down below as it was with her mouth, and she could feel it twisting inside her. [FN] covered her face with her hands, and gasped deeply as he licked and sucked and tasted every inch of her at the most indecent time possible.

* * *

_This,_ Solus thought as he felt her thighs quiver on either side of his head. _This is heaven._ Her blood was already delicious - sweet and heady and easily addictive - but when concentrated in her menses, thick like syrup, it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He was almost sorry he had glutted himself on the village girl the night before. If he had known this would be waiting for him…

No, it was better this way. If he had still been ravenous when he smelled her cycle upon her neither she nor her maidenhead would have survived the night. Instead he could enjoy - truly enjoy - this most delightful of pleasures, along with the sound of her sighs and gasps. 

The thought that he could have this for a week every month nearly made him climax in his trousers. He should have found a woman to serve him years ago. No, no, it had to be [FN]. No one else would have been as sweet. 

Solus grumbled when he realized he had licked her clean, and caught up everything he could reach with his tongue. He wanted more, but that would have to wait for later. He’d enjoy her again just before dawn. For now, though… he wanted this to be something she was as eager for as he was.

He shifted himself up a little bit, and moved his tongue from her slick passage to her clitoris, pleased that her already-heavy panting became ragged gasps in only a few moments. She was too responsive, too submissive, and it almost made him feel the villain when she cried out in ecstasy. But then her fingers were in his hair and her own primal passions took her, and she begged for more.

Solus was only too happy to oblige her. It took a little longer to pull a second orgasm from her, but when he was done, she was a wet, whimpering mess, shivering and shuddering on the duvet. He took advantage, and slipped his tongue back into her to lap up the last sweet bits that had been shaken loose by her pleasure.

When he was completely sure that he would get nothing else for now, he kissed her inner thigh. “I will have you like that again before daybreak, and we’ll repeat that until your infirmity has passed.”

“Y-you want to… do that again?” Her hair was plastered to the side of her face with sweat, and she looked absolutely tantalizing propped up on her elbows and staring down at him. She was beautiful when she forgot to be self-conscious, and he had to take a moment to drive Magnai’s words from his mind. 

He was not in love. [FN] was not his soulmate or his Nhaama or whatever other pretty words someone came up with. He was an ancient thing. One of the First Brood. She was nothing but a tool, a toy, something to serve at his pleasure like Renfield had, then tossed aside when he was through with her. If convincing her he adored her ensured her obedience, so be it. So long as she served. And tonight, at least, she had served _well._

Solus kept his word, and used his mouth on her obscenely again before dawn, and twice a night - when he woke and just before he rested - for the rest of her monthly visit.

* * *

**Author’s Note: Period sexy-times are over, but may be mentioned in passing again later.**

* * *

It rained drearily for a week while Solus kept [FN] occupied. She blushed every time she thought of it, but shook it away. No one had told her a man could make her feel like that, and even accounting for the fact that he was always cold, it suddenly made her understand the plight of fallen women much more keenly. Which was good, considering he intended for her to join their ranks in due course.

The last morning of her cycle, after he had indulged in his unseemly desire, while he grumbled it had not been enough and nuzzled greedily at her neck, she remembered what she had wanted to ask him.

“Solus?”

“Mmm?” He made a curious noise, but did not move his lips from her skin.

“Last week, when you were cross with me, and went for a walk… did you see a young girl about the village, perchance?”

He paused a moment, then went back to brushing his teeth over her skin. It made her feel like a rabbit caught in a snare sometimes. “No,” he murmured into skin still wet with his saliva. “Why do you ask?”

“When I went to town, a constable was there, asking for information about a missing girl named Stella Brown. She walked home from work about the same time you were out on your walk. I just wondered.”

“Well, put it out of your head,” Solus replied, and kissed her temple. “I remained on the grounds, and thus saw nothing of a missing barmaid. You should go upstairs. I am tired, and wish to rest.”

“All right,” she said. His mood had changed again, to that sullen anger that often afflicted him when she did something he disliked. Quietly, [FN] padded up the stairs, and pulled the basement door shut. She heard him lock it behind her. 

It was only after she crawled into her own bed, just before sleep claimed her, that she realized she had never told him the girl’s profession.


	6. Non Nobis, Domine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus and [FN] struggle with their desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a transitional chapter, to start moving into the plot.

“Sterling?” [FN] asked, approaching the large man in the stables just after luncheon.

“M’lady,” He tapped the brim of his cap and stood. “What can I do for you?”

“I…” She glanced anxiously back toward the manor, then back to him, before dropping her voice to a whisper. “I think Count Galvus knows something about that girl’s disappearance.”

Sterling frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I asked him about her, and he knew she was a barmaid. But all I had mentioned was that a girl had disappeared from the village.” She twisted her hands before herself and bit her lip. “I know he’s not… he’s not always a gentleman. I am worried he might be involved.”

Sighing, he glanced over her head, toward the moors. “That on its own doesn’t mean much, ma’am. But…” he patted her head. “How about I go into town and check up on some things, maybe get some more information. For all we know, she’s returned home in the last week.”

She knew he was attempting to comfort her with his smile, but it didn’t work. Still, she gave him a small smile in return. “All right. What should I do?”

“Stick close to Lord Solus. See if he does anything else to warrant suspicion.” 

Sterling smiled as she walked into the house, then reached into his pocket, taking out the small silver mirror he kept squirrelled away. Without a word, he walked out of the stables, turned so he was facing towards the village, and lifted the mirror in the air.

A few minutes later, an answering flash of light came from within the moors.

* * *

Three days had passed since the end of [FN]’s cycle, and Solus smiled to himself at the memory of enjoying her as he lounged in the hot spring in his most private rooms. The Romans had built this place, a small structure of stone to take advantage of the warm waters. It was a private indulgence, to relax down here and let the heat settle in his bones.

While he did, he let himself fantasize about [FN]. She was so delicious, so inviting, yet she trembled in fear of the things he made her feel. Wholly unfamiliar with the effect she had on others, she also seemed surprised by the effects they could have on her. He let his mind recall the music of the week before - her sighs, her gasps, her _cries_ as he brought her pleasure. A cantata in recognition of his magnificence.

Abruptly, it seemed as though his mind slipped the leash, and ran off with the fantasy, his imaginings becoming viscerally real. He could see her there, the lustful thing he would make of her, straddling him in this same pool, and his arm lifted to reach for her against his will, his conscious mind panicking at what he saw. No heartbeat fluttered in her neck. No flush came to her pale skin. When she smiled, he saw her fangs, long and delicate and gentle like Rynn’s.

“Who do you belong to?” the phantom [FN] whispered, and he gasped one word in fear and longing.

“You.”

* * *

A desperate knock sounded Rynn and Magnai’s bedroom door, and Rynn cracked one eye open, grabbing her husband’s pocket watch from the bedside table. She brushed her fingers over the hands and scowled - it was still day.

Magnai clutched possessively at she tried to wriggle away. “No,” he murmured, pulling his teeth from where they’d spent the day so far, embedded in her flesh just below her ribcage. “Stay.”

The knocking continued. “The servants know not to wake us unless it is important,” Rynn replied, and let her fingers brush through his hair that faded from black to gold. “If they’re at the door, it is important.” She hissed then, as he bit roughly at her side and bent her pelvis a way it was not supposed to go, and the sound filled the room with a loud _crack_.

“You are still recovering,” he said teasingly, and slowly climbed off of her. “I will see to it.”

“Arse,” she murmured, but still smiled when he came to kiss her forehead on his way to answer the door.

“It had better be important,” Magnai growled at the servant as he opened the door.

“It’s a Miss [FN], from Amaurot?” the servant replied. “She said she must speak with you, and is refusing to leave.”

Magnai rubbed his forehead. “Let me wake Rynn and -”

“No,” the maid bobbed a quick curtsey. “She’s asking for _you_, my lord.”

* * *

[FN] blushed deeply as Magnai entered his study, a room in the middle of the house with no windows. Books only filled a few of the shelves, most of the rest were piled with scrolls in languages she did not speak. At the far end of the room, behind his desk, someone had mounted a massive axe on the wall, that looked like a relic from the museum. Though none of this brought her to blush.

No, the issue was that Magnai came to see her in little more than a pair of trousers and an open silk robe, baring his chest, his muscles, and all his scars. She realized suddenly that Solus had never taken off his shirt in front of her, and his body beneath his suits was still a mystery to her. It had not bothered her before, but now she found herself desperately eager to see the planes of his chest, and count what scars the enigmatic man might have.

“F-forgive the unexpected visit, Lord Magnai,” she said, dropping her head and looking at her hands. “But something has happened, and you are friends with Lord Solus…”

Magnai groaned and rubbed his forehead. _Will I ever be the one to clean up after that demon?_ At least the girl was blushing, so he knew Solus had at least slowed his consumption of her to relatively healthy levels. “What has he gotten himself into _this_ time?”

“I’m not sure… but…” [FN] bit her lip. “A little over a week ago, the day after your visit, I went to the village. They were talking about a young woman who had gone missing the night before. I didn’t think much of it, save that I remembered Solus had gone for a walk right after his apology.”

_Oh no,_ Magnai blanched. He knew where this was going. A story he’d heard, and lived, a thousand times before.

“I asked him if he’d seen or heard anything, and he told me that he didn’t know anything about a missing barmaid, but I…” She looked up and searched Magnai’s face for a reaction, but the only thing she saw was irritation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

“It’s all right,” he flicked his hand toward her. “But you…” he said, urging her to continue.

“He said he did not know anything about a barmaid, but I had not _told_ him she was a barmaid.”

_Solus, you are still as stupid as you were six hundred years ago,_ Magnai thought to himself. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his watch, popping open the case. Sundown would be in an hour or so.

“I need to go check on Rynn,” Magnai said, and leaned forward to grab the handle of a small bell, to summon a servant. At its chime, a footman came in, and bowed. “Take Miss [FN] downstairs, and see that she is served dinner. My wife and I will be going with her back to Amaurot after sundown, so have Douglas prepare a carriage as well.”

“Thank you,” [FN] said as she stood. “I just… I don’t want him to get hurt. Even if he’s made a mistake.”

Magnai waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it.”

* * *

Solus prowled the foyer of Amaurot angrily. “Where _is_ she?”

Merritt bowed apologetically. “Forgive me, my lord. She said she wished to go visit the Oronirs, and as they are your friends, and not far, we did not see the harm.”

“I don’t mind that she went to visit them,” he shouted, “I mind that she is not _here_ when I desire her!”

“With all due respect,” Merritt said, standing straight, “You told us to treat her as the lady of the house, not your prisoner. It is not our place to tell the lady of the house she is not permitted to leave. Further, as you are not her parent, her partner, or her priest, you have no call to demand anything of her.”

“I am her partner,” Solus argued. “I-”

“No,” Merritt shook his head. “You are her owner. You have purchased her body, but not her heart, my lord, despite the fact it seems the latter is your desire. You could do well to learn from the way Lord Magnai tre-”

“_She’s not my Nhaama!_” Solus shouted, then froze. Of all the people he wanted to shout at, this butler was not one of them. He ran a hand through his hair and composed himself. “Forgive me, you are not the only one I’ve heard this lecture from in recent days. I… will take what you all have said to heart. I will await her return in the sitting room. Please, send her to speak to me when she arrives.”

“Of course,” the butler replied, and bowed. “Would you like me to send Fletcher with some wine?”

“Some _vin santo_, if you please.”

Merritt was wringing his hands when [FN], Rynn, and Magnai returned to the manor. “Lord Solus is in a fine mood,” he replied. “He would like you to attend him immediately, Lady [FN].”

Magnai shook his head. “I’ll deal with him. Rynn, will you keep an eye on [FN]? There’s liable to be some shouting, and it may come to blows, but I can handle him. I don’t want her spooked.”

* * *

“There you are,” Solus began as he heard the door open, but scowled when he saw it was the tall Mongolian. “What are you doing here?”

“Dealing with a petulant child having a multi-week tantrum, apparently,” Magnai’s face was still as stone, a better sign than most that he was truly angry.

The two men regarded each other. This was an old game, between them. Solus may have been older, but Magnai was much better at controlling his moods. The younger had the benefit of having been raised in a proper society, with rules and social etiquette. The ancient one had been turned when men were still sharpening sticks and cowering in caves. 

It was Magnai who began the attack. “I must admit, you’ve done an admirable job awakening her to the pleasures of the flesh. You should have seen the way she blushed, and stole glances at me. If I were not a married man I could have had her on my desk then and there.” He rubbed his chin. “Then again… Rynn could probably be convinced. You asked last time if I was interested in buying. Is the offer still on the table?”

“So it’s to be provocation, is it?” Solus countered. “I’ll have you know I am quite well sated. I’ve eaten well the last two weeks.”

“Yes, I suspected as much.” Magnai crossed his arms. “Tell me about the barmaid.”

“Oh, gods, did she come tattle to you? Come to solve a mystery?” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, so I killed one of the townsfolk. It happens.”

“Why?” 

“I was _hungry_. I’d just been lectured by you about how often I was feeding from her. And [FN] was…” Solus’s mind flicked back to that night, to her lips against his neck. He closed his eyes to banish the thought, only to see the vision from earlier, that still, unblemished eternal version of the girl leaning over him. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t kill [FN], and that’s the important part.”

“No, instead you killed a townswoman. And now, the whole town is crawling with people looking for what happened to her. And it gets worse.” Magnai reached into his suit pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Solus. “With Rynn needing to feed so frequently to sate us both, I hired a man to monitor the wires. That went out two days ago.”

Solus looked down and read the telegram.

> Come at once. STOP. Rising clutch. STOP. Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini tuo da gloriam. STOP.

“Oh,” he said, and looked up at Magnai. “Damnable hell.”

“What do you want to do?”

Solus ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing for it. Going to have to call in the circus.”

“Well,” Magnai said, “At least our Nhaamas will enjoy it.”

Solus threw his half-full wine glass at the taller man. “She’s not my Nhaama.”

Magnai side-stepped easily. “All right, liar.” He turned to the door, “By the way, I thought you should know. When [FN] came to me, it wasn’t to solve the mystery of what happened to the barmaid. It was to try and protect you from the consequences.” He laughed uproariously at the look that came across Solus’s face - surprise and hope and so obviously, desperately in love.

* * *

Hours after Magnai and Rynn had left, Solus still held [FN] close in the large plush bed. She dozed in his arms, and he let himself relax, enjoying her warmth. Maybe Magnai was right. Maybe he should tell her. He couldn’t deny he felt… jealous… when he saw the man and his wife together. The way the woman came to him without question, how he could touch her without asking.

Worse, he knew what it meant for himself. Magnai would never spend months holed up with him, no more wiping out a village just to show their strength. His _errant child_, his companion these last few centuries, had found a new companion who could share things with him that Solus could not.

Still, one other thing was toying at the back of his mind - what Magnai had said.

_”You should have seen the way she blushed, and stole glances at me. If I were not a married man I could have had her on my desk then and there.”_

Had she been so ready and willing for the other man? What else had been said in their conversation? And most importantly, why didn’t [FN] look at him like that? 

He pulled his lips from her and shook her awake. “[FN].”

“Mmph, Solus?” she replied, her eyes opening slowly as she reached for him.

“I… need to ask you something.” 

“What is it?” She was still tired, it seemed, and already curling close to him to go back to sleep.

“Magnai said you…” he swallowed. “He said that you wanted him. When you went to see him today.”

Her eyes snapped open and she laughed. “That’s ridiculous. Rynn’s my friend.” But she was blushing.

“Then why did you blush for him? Why are you blushing now?” He hated how plaintive his voice was. Gods, he was as much the petulant child as Magnai accused.

“It’s… silly,” she said, and buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Tell me,” he replied, and put an arm around her waist. “I need to know you don’t yearn for someone else. I…” he let his fingers slide into her hair. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“Do you promise not to mock me or be angry with me?”

“No,” he said honestly. “Well, I promise not to mock you. But I don’t know if I can control my temper. I feel…” Solus swallowed. “I want you to be mine. No one else’s. So I do not know if I can be calm at the idea of you yearning for another.”

“Oh, it’s not that,” She laughed softly. “When I went to see them, he was not fully dressed when we spoke. He was just wearing pants and a robe, with his whole chest just on display.”

“Aah.” It had been the man’s habit for years, once he realized it made women simper. “And you… liked that?”

“Not that, particularly,” he could feel [FN]’s face heat against his neck. “I just realized that I’ve never seen _you_ like that.” She laughed nervously. “You’ve seen me completely nude, but I have never seen what waits beneath your suit. And it seemed strange, given that you want me to give myself to you in that way, that you haven’t attempted to make me yearn for you in a carnal fashion.”

“So you’re saying seeing him half-undressed,” his hand at her waist tightened, pulling her closer. “Made you think of seeing me like that.” She nodded, but said nothing, and he chuckled. “I’m certainly not _angry_ about that.” He let his thumb stroke the back of her skull while he thought. “Would you like to? See me undressed, that is?”

[FN] let out a delicate little squeak. “I don’t know, I couldn’t ask, it would be -”

“Well within your rights,” Solus purred into her ear. “After all, you have the right of it. I want you to yearn for me. I know you seemed… eager, by the end of your cycle, for our time together. We can go further than that, if you like.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready?” She was trembling in his arms. “I’ve never seen a completely nude man.”

“Have you at least seen a drawing?” he asked.

She shook her head. “My stepmother wouldn’t allow such lasciviousness in the house. So, all I know is what I’ve been told.”

“Well, I don’t want to disappoint. And I would love to sate your curiosity.” The hand at her waist began to explore her curves. “Let me take you someplace private, and you can undress me and explore to your heart’s content.”

[FN]’s answering whine from deep in her throat made him laugh.


	7. Worth Every Farthing [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus is impulsive.
> 
> Minor Content Warning for mention of rape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like! Let me know what you think! :)

[FN] bit her lip as Solus picked her up and set her on the floor beside the bed. “My darling,” he whispered. “Do you trust me?”

She thought for a moment, weighing the question. “Yes.” 

With a well placed kick, he sent the bed skidding across the room, revealing a trap door set into the stone floor. Solus hooked one finger through the handle and lifted it open, then climbed halfway inside. “Come with me,” he whispered, and held out one hand. “Please.”

The look in his eyes, longing and hopefulness and that tiny bit of fear - what did he have to be afraid of - convinced her more than anything that she should follow.

* * *

_What are you doing?_ Solus’s own voice echoed in his head. _This place is not for anyone else. Why are you bringing her here?_ He grumbled in the back of his throat to banish the thoughts, and pulled her after him down the hallway. When they reached the edge of the bath, he grabbed one of the long, thin sticks and lit it from a nearby candle, and walked about the room, lighting the candelabra set every few feet in the walls.

It was only as he lit the last that he realized he was stalling. He had no reason to be nervous or afraid of this girl. He repeated his mantra of the last week and a half to himself. _I am not in love. She is not my Nhaama. She is just a tool. This is just to ensure her loyalty._ Then he turned to look at her, and all his thoughts died away.

[FN] had stripped down to nothing but her thin chemise of white voile, and was sitting on the edge of the stone basin of the spring, her calves and the bottom hem of her garment already in the water. She pulled the pins from her hair, one by one, and left them to sit on the ledge, and all he could do was stare. He had not seen her undressed since the end of her menses, and now that he was not maddened by the scent of her blood, he had time to actually appreciate her body, from its Rubenesque curves to its graceful movements.

“Solus?” she asked anxiously. “I-is everything all right?”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Everything’s perfect, my dear.” He walked over towards her and pulled off his shoes before sitting beside her on the ledge. “Welcome to my baths. They are a bit of a secret, so I ask that you keep their presence to yourself, hmm?”

She blushed. “All right.”

He nudged her gently with his shoulder. “So. [FN]. Do you want to undress me? Or would you like me to handle it?”

She swallowed hard and reached for his cravat… but to his eternal amusement, she trembled more and more the closer she got to him, until she finally pulled her hand back and clutched it between her breasts, blushing furiously. “I don’t think I can.”

He laughed and reached for the cravat himself, untying it and tossing it into the little pile of her gown. Soon the rest of his clothes followed, until he was nude beside her, but her eyes had been squeezed shut since his fingers had reached the fourth button of his shirt. “[FN],” he said, teasingly. “You wanted to see me…”

She squeaked again, and Solus reached over, placing a hand gently on her cheek, turning her to face him. “Look at me, [FN].”

“I’m afraid,” she confessed, but lifted her hand and pressed it over the one on her cheek, cradling it against her face.

“Why?” He asked.

“I love the things we’ve done so far, and I’m afraid that if I open my eyes, I will be truly lost.” He let his thumb drift to her lips, and brushed over them gently as she spoke. “This is not a door I can close again once opened. I am afraid that I will open my eyes and like what I see, that I will want you, desperately, but you will have your way and tire of me and I will be alone again.”

Solus remembered suddenly, viscerally, what he had seen in her that night on Mr. Morgan’s stage - an echo of his own loneliness reflected back at him from her. 

“I cannot promise I will always love you, [FN],” he whispered. “But I can promise that I will not _abandon_ you. Even if we cease to be lovers, we will remain friends, so long as we both walk this earth. You will always have a place with me, even if it is no longer in my bed.” His grip on her face tightened, and he dragged her lower lip down with his thumb. “Though I will tell you that from what I’ve seen so far, a lifetime will not be enough to sate my desire for you.” Then he sighed, and pulled his hand away.

“But if you are not ready, you are not ready, and thought it drives me mad I will wait.” He looked away from her, towards the water. “I will come down here and pine for you like I did all day today. I will dream of having you in these baths, of your sweet sighs and yearning gasps. Of being clutched within the climaxes I have only tasted.”

Her hands went to her face. “Y-you pine for me?”

He slid down, and rolled over, letting his head rest on his crossed arms on the ledge and looking at her while the rest of his body hung down in the water. “You really have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?” He chuckled at the blush creeping up her forearms. “I admit, it can be maddening. Desiring you so intensely, while fearing I ruined everything from the outset.” Solus sighed and buried his face in his folded arms on the ledge. “I never should have bought you. I should have… I don’t know… found you before the auction. Let someone else buy you and then killed them for you. I was just so maddened by this intense _need_ for you that I could not think clearly. All I knew was that I had to possess you. So, I bought you. And now I worry you can’t actually love me because of what I did in my madness.”

Solus heard movement in the water, then felt her fingers on his back, tracing his shoulder blades. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you did." Her laugh was strained. "Better this than being murdered. Better this than staying where I was. Better this than being bought by someone who would have cared little for my fears and taken me against my will." 

"How horrible it must have been," he whispered, "that your standards are 'A man who doesn't murder or rape me.'"

"Well, there are things I like about you," she chuckled, and he felt her slide into the water beside him, felt her arms brush his as she turned and folded them on the ledge like he had. 

"Like what?" He opened one eye and watched her.

"Well, I like the way you give little care to what most others think of you. For all your preening and peacocking, you pay no attention to etiquette most of the time." [FN] laughed, and Solus felt something twist in his stomach. He had never seen a smile like that on her face before - full and genuine and unburdened by fears. He wanted it to stay there, so he could see it whenever he liked. 

"You also play beautifully. I remember that first night, when you played for hours. It drove all my troubling thoughts off, and I could just enjoy the wine and food and listen." She sighed wistfully. "I wish you would play more often."

He pulled one arm from beneath his head and put it around her before he realized what he was doing. "I will play for you every night. For the rest of your life, if you'd like." He bit his tongue. His eagerness was making promises without thought.

"It doesn't have to be every night. But occasionally would be nice." Her eyes opened slowly, and they stared at each other in silence for a long time. 

Then, Solus stuck out his tongue, an eminently childish expression, and her unburdened laughter filled the small stone chamber as he pulled her into his arms. She came willingly, and their legs tangled up beneath the surface while his mouth took hers, silencing her giggles before replacing them with moans.

His fingers stroked her skin through the voile, and he felt her trembling beneath his touch. "I don't want you to be afraid of me," he whispered. "I would give you anything, if you let me love you."

"Would you answer a question, honestly?" 

"I said I would not lie to you." He pulled her closer, brushing the tip of his nose against her cheek.

"You also said you wouldn't tell me everything." [FN] whispered, and turned to face him. "So I am asking you to tell me this, even if you don't want to."

He swallowed anxiously. "All right."

Her eyes caught his, and her fingers brushed the back of his neck. "What happened to the barmaid, Solus?"

This was a test, he knew. She had enough to suspect he was involved, or she would not have gone to Magnai. He could either gamble with her affection, or be honest and _still_ gamble with her affection. At least the honest option would be in keeping with his earlier promises, and help him judge her suitability.

"I kidnapped her, killed her, and buried her in the moors."

She did not pull away from him, but everywhere they touched, her body tensed. "Why?"

Solus looked down at [FN]'s body in the water. "I have unnatural desires. You know that. I had been putting off indulging them, but I was becoming maddened with the suppressed urges. Everything that night…" he sighed. "My tempers were high and I wanted to indulge but I did not want to hurt you. So I took my drunken arse to town and found the first unattended maiden. I got her drunk on wine then killed her."

Her eyes searched his face. "You didn't want to hurt me. Did you…" she bit her lip. "Did you have your way with her before you killed her?"

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "I couldn't bring myself to."

"Why not?"

"She wasn't _you_, and you are the one I'm maddened by." It was the truth. He had considered satisfying more than one desire on the girl's body, but the idea of it repulsed him when he imagined the betrayal [FN] might feel. "I don't want barmaids or serving girls. I want you."

"Are you going to kill me?" She didn't seem afraid of the concept. 

"Only if you ask me to." He felt his cock brush against her thigh as she pulled herself closer to him in the water.

"Am I safe with you?" Her leg moved, and he felt the hem of her chemise slide along his length as she lifted it for him. 

"Until the day I die," he promised, and then he kissed her, pushing her on her back, only her head above the water, braced against the stone. "Please, [FN], let me have you," Solus gasped into her mouth.

"Yes," she clung to him tightly, wriggling beneath the surface until his cock brushed against her labia. "You can have me."

He kissed her again as he pushed himself inside, both of them trembling at the invasion. She was probably in some pain, as he could feel her maidenhead give way for him, but he was reveling in the strength of her body's grip. 

Solus broke the kiss and let his lips trail across her cheek to her ear, then down to her neck, as she wriggled and gasped, pinned between him and the stone ledge. 

[FN] cried out as he drove his fangs into her artery, and he felt his eyes roll back into his head in absolute ecstasy as he started thrusting into her, his mouth filled with her blood the way she was filled with him. 

She became limp and pliable and extremely sensitive - side effects of his bite that made feeding easier once he caught his prey, that served him just as well in carnal delights. Her heart raced every time their hips met, and it made the blood come faster, until she clenched around him and cried out, and he joined her in orgasm. 

He grumbled plaintively to himself as he licked her wounds closed, angry that he had not lasted nearly as long as he wanted. He still yearned for her, but he had been greedy, and given the pallor of her skin, he'd have to wait a few days to have her again, either way.

"Stay with me today," he whispered. "Sleep in my bed beside me. I don't want either of us to wake alone." She nodded, and he finally let himself slide out of her with a sigh. "Let me keep you," he murmured.

"As long as you'll have me," she replied, and he chuckled. Such dangerous promises.

* * *

[FN]'s eyes fluttered open in the plush bed. Her whole body felt strange - more alive than it had the night before. She rolled onto her side and stared at him, so still. He almost seemed a corpse, cold and unmoving, but when she reached to feel his pulse, his hand snapped up and caught hers. 

"You're awake," she said, and though Solus did not open his eyes, he smiled. 

"Maybe," he replied, "but I had such a pleasant dream." 

"Oh?" 

He nodded and pulled her fingers to his lips. "I dreamt that you gave yourself to me, at long last." He opened one eye and gave her a rakish smile. "I long to sleep, and enjoy such dreamy delights again." 

[FN] laughed. "I did, you cad. And if you would like to enjoy them again, I am right here."

"Oh no, I can't," he sighed. "Magnai and I have arranged a little surprise for you and Rynn."

"Oh?" She sat up, and in the candlelight he could see she had not deigned to dress. “What could possibly be better than -” She blushed furiously at what she was implying, and collapsed back on the bed.

“You know what,” Solus purred, pulling her into his arms. “I’ve changed my mind. The Khagan can wait.”

[FN]’s delighted laugh was silenced by their passions once again.

* * *

Magnai gave Solus a smug smirk while Rynn and [FN] peered out the carriage windows. Neither had been to the Midnight Circus before, and were eager to see what strange delights the place might have. The two men, on the other hand, having known each other for years, had a wordless conversation of exchanged glances, smirks, and rolled eyes. 

It was Rynn who finally stated the obvious, and made [FN] blush riotously. “My dear, you smell like Solus.”

“He…” she began, “I…” [FN] looked as though she was about to cry, then looked to Solus for help. The look of anxiety on her face wiped the pleased smile from his, and he pulled her close. 

“I’ll thank you not to besmirch the lady in my presence, Lady Oronir,” he said, his voice hard. 

Rynn looked to Magnai, who gave a brief shake of his head. “She’s sensitive,” her husband said, and shrugged.

They pulled up at last to the fairgrounds, just outside London, amidst tall torches and brightly dyed tents. “Come,” Solus whispered to [FN]. “Rynn did not mean anything cruel, I’m sure. And I want you to enjoy tonight.” He gave her a gentle squeeze, and was pleased to see her anxiety was soon forgotten amidst the strange sights of the circus. 

Four tickets and some awkward shuffling later - including Magnai and Solus flexing their nobility - they were situated in the front row. Solus put his arm possessively around [FN]’s waist and kissed her cheek. “Try to enjoy yourself,” he whispered. “It’s a bit silly, but frivolous fun. And I know a few people here.”

She swallowed. “Will you be introducing me?”

“Of course,” he laughed. “It would be rude not to.”

“As what?” the question startled him, and he glanced at her only to see Rynn and Magnai were also staring at him pointedly, just as eager for the answer.

“W-well…” he stammered, and looked away. “I…” His mind raced, and he looked at his hands.

Magnai laughed. “I must congratulate you, [FN]. You’ve managed to discomfit him.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, ignoring the man chuckling behind her. “I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

Solus scoffed. _What’s one lifetime, anyway? It will keep her close to me, I can have her as I desire, and it will tie her fortunes to mine, making her even less likely to betray me._ He looked up at her. “How about… the woman I’m currently courting?”

Her gasp and flushed cheeks made him grin. “I thought that wasn’t an option.” 

“It wasn’t. Then last night happened. And…” he gave her a tired smile. “Considering what I told you about the village girl, and your reaction, I thought you’d flee. You didn’t. You accepted what I am. I have no intention of letting that go.”

The smile she gave him was dazzling. “In for a penny, in for a pound?” she asked.

“More like in for seven and a half million pounds,” he retorted, and leaned close, pressing a kiss to her lips. “And worth every farthing.” Anything else they would have said to each other was lost amidst the sound of the band picking up, playing a jaunty tune. Performers began dancing and twirling into the rings, putting on attention-grabbing displays, and [FN]’s eyes widened in wonder.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” A masculine voice boomed from somewhere within the room. “Boys and Girls! Children of all ages! Tonight, we welcome you to our festival of the strange,” The speaker appeared - a man with white hair and a long white ringmaster’s coat - and hopped on the back of an elephant. 

“The exotic!” he gestured towards the roof of the tent, and a boy with blue hair, in a red bejeweled leotard and matching mask swung from the trapeze and did an intricate flip in the air before landing on the elephant by his side. 

“And the terrifying!” Two strong men carried a large stone bowl, filled with a large, lit campfire beside the elephant, and the two men on its back clasped hands and jumped into the flames. However, instead of them, two wolves came out the other side, one dark and one white, and lunged at the audience, before rushing backstage.

“I am Thancred Waters!” The man in white’s voice boomed, and he reappeared, rising on a mechanical platform. “Ringmaster of the Midnight Circus!” He grabbed a nearby trapeze, and swung around the room before slowing to a stop before [FN], and holding out a small white rose to her. “Here to make all your dreams come true.” 

The man’s voice lowered, so only they could hear him, and he said to Solus. “Get out.”


	8. The Midnight Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A number of questions are asked and answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We expand the universe a little more!

"If you must know, Thancred,” Solus said in irritation, “I've come to ask you a _favor_."

Thancred pushed his jacket aside, showing a dagger at his hip. "What kind of favor?"

Magnai suddenly coughed. "I don't think the middle of the show is the time to discuss business." He glanced pointedly at [FN]. "Afterward, maybe the young man can give the ladies a tour while we deal with this unsavory business."

Thancred rolled his eyes, then let go of the railing in front of their seat, swinging back into the melee of the opening performance.

* * *

[FN] seemed absolutely dazzled by the performance, which was a surprise. Rynn, at least, had attended circuses in the past, so while she was amused she was not as absolutely enthralled. While the show wrapped up, and Thancred bid adieu to the various guests that wished to see him after the show, Solus leaned on the railing and said, “Was this your first circus?”

He meant it as a jape, but she seemed to be unaware of his intent, merely smiling brightly. “Oh yes!”

“I…” Her innocent answer confused him. “You’ve never been to a _circus?_”

“Not at all. Too expensive.” She grabbed another of the animal shaped biscuits from the little paper box - a rabbit - and bit off its head before lining it up with the other decapitated ‘victims’ she had created over the course of the evening.

“Admission is a ha’penny,” Solus laughed. “How is that too expensive?”

[FN] shrugged and claimed another baked life. “My stepmother considered anything more than the essentials to be an extravagance.” Something flickered in her face as she spoke, but it smoothed away in an instant. He knew from long experience no mortal eye would have caught it.

“Who is your stepmother?” 

“Does it matter?” Her voice had an almost exasperated tone. “She sold me to Mr. Morgan for two hundred and fifty pounds. Any claim she had on me or my life ended the moment she took his money.” With pursed lips, she swept the headless biscuits back into the box. “What favor are you planning to ask the Ringmaster?”

Solus regarded her in silence for a moment, assessing her reaction, and remembering what Rynn had mentioned in the carriage when he first brought her back to Amaurot. _”Or what Morgan said was the truth, and she had an unkind family.”_ He remembered what the girl had said herself, the first night he had tried to claim her. _”My stepmother squandered the inheritance my parents left for me, and had to cut expenses. I - being not her child, and not her husband’s child - was deemed an unnecessary expense.”_

“What happened to your parents?” He asked, suddenly.

The thin line of [FN]’s mouth turned down into a scowl. “My mother died bringing me into this world. My father followed her a few years later, an ague. And before you ask, I remember nothing of my mother, and very little of my father. As far as I know I have no living grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins. I was my stepmother’s responsibility until she could no longer find profit in keeping me, and then I met Mr. Morgan, and then I met you.” When their eyes met, he could see she was attempting to be angry - attempting to put that loneliness up around herself like battlements, as if to fool herself into believing she preferred it that way. But Solus saw the trembling in her hands, the shallowness of her breath, and the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. 

He opened his mouth to reply, to offer some words of comfort, when the blue-haired boy in red approached, and pushed his mask up into his hair, and raised a hand in greeting. “Hullo!” Despite his dark skin, he had blue eyes, and Solus could see the betraying dark roots of naturally black hair. Most surprising were the facial tattoos across his cheeks, strange lines whose meaning the ancient could not immediately guess. “Thancred said he’s ready to speak with you, and asked me to take the young miss on a tour?”

Solus scowled at the boy’s gauche breach of propriety, but he realized almost immediately and gave a quick bow. “S-sorry! I’m Rinor. One of the performers here at the Midnight Circus.”

[FN] gave Rinor an affable smile. _How quickly she hides her sadness and anger…_ Solus thought, and glanced between the two of them. “I’m [FN],” She curtseyed politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“She’ll not be going with you until Rynn returns,” Solus barked, and put an arm possessively around the girl’s waist, pulling her closer. “I’ll not let any man take her for a walk unescorted.”

“Except you?” Rinor asked, playfully. 

“Don’t provoke him,” Magnai called, and pushed Rynn towards [FN]. “He’s volatile enough as it is where the young lady is concerned.” The Mongolian scratched his chin. “Rynn, for all our sakes, make sure the boy keeps his hands to himself.”

Rynn gave Rinor an appraising look, then smiled. “I really don’t think that will be a problem.”

As the three of them walked away toward the wagons the circus folk used as homes, Solus turned to Magnai. “Can you handle the favor with Thancred?”

“Why?” the other man asked, raising an eyebrow.

Solus straightened his coat. “I have a sudden pressing need to visit Mr. Morgan and ask him a few questions.”

* * *

Mr. Morgan was sitting in his study, finishing his last accounts for the week, when a servant rushed in, pale and trembling. “C-Count Solus Galvus, Mr. -” 

He was interrupted as the impatient Count strode past him, and commanded, “Leave us,” with a flick of his hand. The terrified boy did so immediately, shutting the door firmly between himself and Galvus. 

“You don’t have an appointment, my lord,” Morgan said, carefully folding away his papers.

“Well, this shant take but a moment of your time. I want to know the name of [FN] [LN]’s stepmother.” The pale man’s face was an expressionless mask, but the air in the room had become decidedly oppressive since he entered.

“Looking to return her? I’m afrai-”

_”Absolutely not.”_ Mr. Morgan was surprised by the vehemence of Count Galvus’s answer, and heard the threat in the nobleman’s voice. Their eyes met, and he was suddenly completely sure that if he did not do as Galvus demanded, he would not leave this room alive.

“Let me pull my records,” Morgan replied. He stood, and turned his back to the other man, perusing the ledgers from the last few weeks until he found the one for [FN]’s auction. He set it on the desk and opened it. “Let me see, let me see.”

Solus’s gloved hand reached out and touched one of the pages. “There. Euphemia Hughes. Thank you, Morgan.”

When the auctioneer looked up, the Count was gone, his study door standing open.

* * *

"You and Thancred seem… close," Rynn said as they walked with Rinor through the animal paddocks. "Is he your brother?"

"My brother?" He seemed confused, then suddenly blushed so hard his skin nearly matched his costume. "N-no," he said, laughing anxiously. "He's my… cousin!"

"Your cousin." Rynn's tone was flat, but she chuckled, and reached out, plucking a single, silvery-white hair off Rinor's shoulder. "Close cousins, I take it?"

The boy swallowed anxiously, but the older woman waved her hand. “It’s all right, I don’t think any of us have the most typical of…”

[FN] was giggling. 

“What?” Rynn asked her. “What’s so funny?”

“Of the three of us,” the girl replied, “you are the one who is properly married.” Her eyes met Rinor’s, and the boy grinned.

“Oh yes, a proper stodgy old wife you are,” he replied, and [FN] linked arms with him, the two grinning devilishly.

“This is the last thing any of us need,” Rynn retorted. “The two of you becoming friends. Magnai told me about Solus’s history with Thancred.”

“Will you tell us?” [FN] immediately began. “I didn’t even know he knew anyone until we were sitting in the seats.”

Rynn shook her head. “Some secrets are not mine to tell. But if you ask Solus, I’m sure he will tell you.”

“Will he?” the young woman seemed dubious. “He does love his secrets.”

* * *

Magnai leaned against the wall of Thancred’s coach, and the two of them stared up at the night sky. “Anyway, he wants you to bring your people and keep an eye on things for now, until the Augurelts return to the Archives in the Autumn.”

“Don’t you think you’re pushing your luck regardless,” the white-haired man asked, opening and closing his switchblade with practiced skill. “Five of you vampires in one place?” He snorted. “Or, considering the way that pompous arse reacted to me being _near_ the girl, six.”

“First of all,” Magnai began, and Thancred said in unison with him, “don’t use that word,” the Khagan sighed, “Second of all, I think he’s decided the lot of us are going to travel with them to the continent. Lastly, I think he plans to leave her human. He purchased her to replace Renfield.”

Thancred shook his head. “He won’t last. You saw what happened when Y’shtola died.” 

Magnai winced. He’d made a point to not think about the enigmatic woman in the years since their separation. In his loneliness, he’d convinced himself she might be his Nhaama, and chased her across Siberia in an attempt to claim her. The pale woman had tried to kill herself rather than be claimed, and Solus turned her himself, then packed her bags and sent her to live with Hien. At the time Magnai had felt deprived. Now he understood it had been his own mess that Solus had cleaned up for once.

“Be that as it may,” he said at last. “At the moment she doesn’t even know what we are.”

Thancred snorted. “So she’s daft, then?”

“Worse,” Magnai shook his head. “Desperately in love. I’m reasonably sure she’s his Nhaama.”

Thancred coughed. “His _soulmate_? You’re joking.”

“I wish. But he’s one of the last of us to not find theirs.” His eyes slid to his pale companion. “What about that boy? You two seemed awfully close.”

Thancred rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m not going to bother denying it. Not to you lot. Rinor’s mine.” He chuckled. “Damned ironic when you think about it. Spend decades chasing women only to fall for a man.” 

“Well, he certainly seems smitten with you.” Magnai nodded towards the trio feeding biscuits to a brightly plumed exotic bird. 

“The feeling’s mutual. But wait, if he doesn’t turn her, and she _is_, then…” Thancred glanced dubiously at Magnai.

“Then he’s the biggest idiot to ever walk this earth, and I will be embarrassed to have been sired by him.” He glanced about, and saw Solus emerging from the treeline. “Aah. Speak of the devil and who should appear?”

The two men watched as Solus walked towards them, but his eyes never left [FN] until the moment she glanced his way.

“Twenty guineas says she’s turned before year’s end,” Thancred said, smirking.

“I’m not just going to _give_ you twenty guineas, Waters.”

They both laughed, causing Solus’s opening words to be, “What’s so funny?” as he approached.

* * *

As the vampires’ carriage rattled away, Thancred let out a high pitched whistle. From around the encampment, all heads turned in his direction. Rinor came over and leaned against Thancred affectionately, and the older man took a moment to put an arm around him and bury his face in the young man’s blue hair. He knew what a sacrifice it was for the pompous old asshole to crawl out of his manor and ask a favor of a lowly pack of werewolves, and that it was an expression of his affection for the girl that she simply could not yet understand. 

But Thancred understood. He’d do the same for Rinor in a heartbeat.

With a sigh, he lifted his head again, but kept his arm tightly around his lover’s waist. “All right, everyone. One of _them_ has requested a favor. Some of the old Templars might be raising their heads in the moors.” A chorus of jeers echoed, and he laughed. “I know, I know. How many times are these idiots going to try again? But, we are people of our word, are we not? For five hundred years we have kept the agreement, that we will help drive them off. I’m certainly not going to make oathbreakers of us all. Will any of you?”

The members of the Midnight Circus, the largest pack of werewolves in Europe, shook their heads. 

“That’s what I thought. We’re going to pack up and head for the Moors. Once things are settled I’ll discuss more formal strategies.” He sighed. “One more thing. They request we remain incognito for now. No revealing yourselves to someone you are not completely sure is one of us or one of them. This most especially includes the young woman under the care of the Ancient One known as Emet-Selch, Solus Galvus. Any questions?”

With that, the rest of the pack began their interrogation.

* * *

Solus let [FN] return to her rooms for the day, too exhausted to do anything but go to sleep himself. He crawled down the trap door, and into the small, unmarked coffin he kept hidden in an alcove. This was where he usually slept. The confinement helped him think. 

_She’s not my soulmate,_ he thought to himself, as he imagined finding the girl’s stepmother.

_She’s just a tool,_ he tried to convince himself, as he imagined terrifying the truth from the wretched woman.

_She’s nothing to me,_ he lied himself, as he imagined killing this Euphemia Hughes for her parsimony, her neglect, for even remotely being responsible for the loneliness in [FN]’s eyes.

_She’ll be dead in a few decades anyway,_ he reminded himself, and wept bitter, bloody tears at the inevitable return of his solitude.

He didn’t last long. Solus crawled out of the coffin and up out of the trap door to find [FN] sitting up in the large plush bed he’d originally bought for appearance’s sake. She held a hand out to him, and he crawled into her arms, weeping uncontrollably and begging her not to go until exhaustion claimed what was left of his consciousness.

Long after he fell asleep, [FN] cradled Solus’s head to her chest and stroked his hair. She thought of all the things she did not know and all the questions he would not answer. Her mind whirled like she was on the verge of some great discovery - as if all the pieces could come together, if only she would let them. But worse, she had her own questions for herself.

_Why does it not bother you that he killed Stella Brown, the barmaid?_

_Why do his strange appetites not send you screaming to the nearest constable?_

_Why are you so protective of him?_

_Why do you love him?_ Then she lowered her head to the pillow, and joined him in slumber.

* * *

Solus knew it was a bad idea, but he still fed from [FN] while he had his way with her just after sunset. No matter how hard he tried to resist, her warmth and thunderous heartbeat always pulled him back in. When he knew he could drink no more without risking her, he forced himself to stop and grumbled about it.

“I must go on an errand, back to London,” he said, pulling the blankets back up around her.

“What for?” she murmured, and reached for him weakly. 

Solus caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I’m going to have some upgrades done to the manor. Indoor plumbing, gas lamps…” She was already fading into sleep, so he folded her hand back against her chest and slipped out silently. 

Merritt was waiting just outside the basement door. “Is she well?”

For a moment, Solus was irritated at the man’s nosiness, but then he realized it was paternal affection, not romantic, and relaxed. “[FN] has overexerted herself. If she wakes, see that she eats, and rests. I should be back in a few days.” He took the gloves Merritt offered and pulled them on brusquely. “If a group of circus performers should come by, they have been invited. Don’t give them run of the manor, but they can do as they like on the grounds. How goes the search for a cook and groundskeeper?”

Merritt nodded. “We hired two men today, in fact, on Sterling’s recommendation. They should serve well.”

“Excellent. See that [FN]’s dietary needs are pressed upon the new cook. I would like to see her in good health and spirits when I return.”

“Of course, Lord Solus.”

* * *

Two nights later, Solus found himself outside the dilapidated brownstone registered with the clerks as belonging to Jasper [LN], [FN]’s father. By rights, it should have passed to [FN] upon his death, held in trust by her stepmother until she came of age, but based off everything he had learned of his lover these past two weeks, he was beginning to realize that something more ominous might be at work.

He rapped on the door with his knuckles, and waited for an answer. It was late enough that the residents should be home, but not late enough that they should be abed. A haggard looking woman opened the door, “What d’ya want?” She asked abruptly, eyeing him.

“I wish to speak to Mrs. Euphemia Hughes, Madam,” he said politely. “Is she in?”

“‘Tis a bit late to be calling, I think,” the woman fussed with her hands in her apron. “The Missus can receive you in the morning.”

Solus shook his head. “It is urgent, in regards to Miss [FN].”

“Who?” 

“[FN] [LN], her late husband’s daughter.”

“Oh! Forgive me,” the woman laughed. “I was just hired last week. I’d heard a little about the girl, but let me see if Mistress Euphemia’s still up.” She motioned for Solus to come in, and he carefully removed his hat as he entered the home and looked around. It had only been two weeks, but there was no trace of a young woman living here. He could smell lingering cigar smoke and spilled brandy, stew and the cheap black tea common to the lower classes. It took him longer than he expected, but there, just on the edges, so faint he nearly missed it, the smell of _vin santo_.

Almost immediately, the serving woman returned with a moderately dressed older woman in her wake. The dress was new - his keen sight could see the thread it was stitched with hadn’t yet begun to fray even slightly. “Well?” The older woman said, frowning. “You asked to see me about [FN]?”

“You are her stepmother, Euphemia?” he asked. He knew he had the right house, but he wanted to be sure. Terribly, desperately sure, before he did anything he might regret.

“Yes. What has she gotten herself into now?” Euphemia crossed her arms. “She’s of age. I’ve washed my hands of her.”

“And were paid a handsome sum to do so, from what I understand.” The servant took a step back, glancing between Solus and Euphemia.

“And how is that your -”

“I’m the one that purchased her,” he replied smoothly, then turned to the servant. “Would you get us some tea?” He returned his gaze to Euphemia, and said darkly, “I have a number of questions to ask Mrs. Hughes.”


	9. A Modicum of Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything seems to be coming together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of smut, enjoy the reprieve before we progress further. hehehehe

Solus started in the attic. Euphemia had said no one had been in here since Jasper [LN]’s death, so he began searching and cataloguing, his preternatural speed and experience making quick work of the detritus of mortal generations. 

What he’d learned from the woman had been less surprising than he expected. It certainly explained a number of little mysteries surrounding [FN] - her delicate constitution, her delight in fine things, the money the Hughes had squandered. It all had to come from somewhere, and now he knew.

_Heathfield._

He carefully filed every relevant piece of paperwork - letters, ledgers, baptismal records, marriage certificates, death certificates. The receipt from Mr. Morgan for two-hundred and fifty pounds. He would be in London for longer than he planned, and he disliked it, but something strange was driving him. A need, deep within himself, to see this one injustice set right. 

After Solus was sure he’d acquired a preponderance of evidence, more than enough to satisfy anyone, he began searching for his own benefit. He knew what kind of ‘parent’ Euphemia had been, but he wanted to know what had been stolen from _her_ and just how angry he should be.

He examined a decrepit cradle, and the silver rattle therein. Someone had engraved her name on one side of the head, and on the back: _With love, Grandpapa Francis._ On the heel of the stem he saw the silversmith’s mark, and carefully tucked the item into the quickly filling satchel. He found a worn velvet horse on wheels, with a handle for a caretaker to push. The handle was only slightly worn, but he could pick out the size and shape of the hand that had done so with his unnaturally keen vision, and the smell of the man’s sweat, soaked into the wood. [FN]’s father, Jasper [LN].

He descended the stairs again, and stepped over the body of the late Mr. Hughes on his way. The servant, Molly, swallowed hard as she glanced between Euphemia, bound and gagged on the settee, and Solus as he sat on the coffee table before her.

“I have learned quite a lot this evening, Widow Hughes,” he began. “And I must say, you and your husband nearly pulled it off. If you’d had the good sense to marry her to one of your friends, I dare say you would have succeeded. But that’s the trouble with mortals, you see.” He clicked his tongue. “So short sighted. You succeed for a decade or two and suddenly think that the piper need never be paid. You become lax, complacent. You make foolish mistakes, and leave loose ends. And that was your problem. [FN] was the crux of your plan, initially, but you became complacent, and she became your loose end.” He smiled.

“Let me guess. You assumed she’d become a chambermaid in some vast house, keep silent, live a quiet, subservient life, and die amongst the invisible masses of household staff, never aware of what had been stolen from her. But, you didn’t make sure. You didn’t keep her trapped. With your husband’s gambling debts growing by the day, you found the stipend stretched less and less, and you couldn’t apply for more without the solicitors wanting to speak to [FN] herself. So you cut your ‘unnecessary expense’,” he felt his fangs scrape against his lips at the words, “not realizing that she would fetch far more, and worse, that the person who bought her might take an interest in who she’d been before the auction.”

Solus motioned to Molly, who held out a small cup of black tea in shaking hands. He took it from her, and took a sip. “Really, it’s almost tragic how close you came. But at this point, I only have one question for you, and I demand an honest answer.” He lifted Euphemia’s bound hands, and brushed his thumb over the inner curve of her elbow, and the vein within, before pulling the gag from her mouth. “How did Jasper die?”

He bit her, disgusted with the taste, but desperate for his answer. He was, after all, Emet-Selch, the Angel of Truth, and his bite would compel her to tell him everything.

Euphemia fought as hard as she could, but he had millenia of experience. Soon enough, she gasped one word: “Arsenic.”

He pulled his fangs from her while she gasped heavily, and took another drink of tea to wash the taste from his mouth before reaching up and snapping her neck.

* * *

“Miss [FN],” the groundskeeper said, and he pulled off his cap as she came traipsing out the side door onto the patio. “What brings you about?”

She smiled. “Tending my roses.” [FN] approached the small pots lined up along the hedge, and inspected each one for signs of new growth. Feeling hopeful that they might sprout soon, she stood. “Are you the new groundskeeper Merritt mentioned?” 

“I am, Miss.” He nodded politely. “My name’s Bertram, but most call me Bert.”

“Bert. Please take good care of my roses?” 

“Of course, Miss. Aren’t you to be resting?”

[FN] laughed. “You’ve been talking to Merritt. I’m going back in, I just wanted to check the roses.” With that, she fluttered back inside, and shut the door behind her.

“What do you think?” Sterling said, walking over from the stables. 

“Oh, aye, she has the look about her. She’s definitely been drained repeatedly in recent days.” Bert scratched his chin. “D’ya think he’s the only one? Or are there others?”

“At least the Oronirs, and I’ve got some suspicions,” The stablemaster replied. “We’ll have to keep a close eye though, and our heads down.”

“It’ll take the others a while to get here.” Bert pulled his cap back on. “For now, all we can do is wait.”

* * *

The circus caravan rolled to a stop outside the dark, foreboding mansion known as Amaurot, and Thancred swore under his breath. He’d never planned to return here, not after last time, but ancient treaties must be upheld. He climbed down from the driver’s seat and placed a hand on the back of his head, twisting it from side to side to pop his neck. The others piled out of their carriages, and glanced nervously about as a tall, older man in a formal suit approached the gate. 

“You are?” He asked, pointedly.

“The Midnight Circus. Here at the request of Count Galvus.” The man’s face appeared distinctly pained.

“I am Merritt, the butler. His lordship has said you are to have run of the grounds, but not the Manor.” Thancred was amused. Of course Solus would make such a demand. “I will see that the cook sets out tables and -”

“Rinor!” A girl called in a carefree manor, and both older men turned to see [FN] rush out the front door and towards the young man in red. “Solus didn’t tell me you’d be coming! Come in, come in.”

“Miss [FN],” Merritt said uncomfortably. “Count Galvus gave strict instructions they were not to be permitted entrance to the manor.”

“Count Galvus isn’t here,” she retorted. “And if he has a problem with it, he’s welcome to take it up with me.”

Thancred laughed. “I guess we’re staying in the Manor, then.”

The butler rubbed a hand over his face. “Just be ready to depart when he returns from London.”

* * *

Solus sat in the solicitor’s office, hands folded, while the man looked over the paperwork he’d brought. “Everything seems to be in order, my lord, but… why are you making these inquiries?” The man regarded him thoughtfully. “Shouldn’t Lady [FN] do so herself?”

“She will, eventually,” he replied, “But I wish to do some preliminary legwork to ensure everything is in order to make the process as smooth as possible for her. With her stepmother’s untimely death a number of things have come to light, and I do not wish to besmirch the late Mrs. Hughes unless I am completely sure, as they were her caretakers.” He said nothing of the auction or the receipts in his valise. 

“Still, I think the more pertinent question - Why is a Mediterranean _Count_ so interested in the affairs of a young woman among the lesser landed gentry?” he drummed his fingers on the table. “You know that Westminster doesn’t appreciate foreign nobility poking their noses in too deeply.”

Shrugging, Solus said, “I am considering making an offer of marriage, and I want to ensure everything is in order before I do so. I have made my home in the moors of Devonshire for some time, and I would like to make things a bit more official with regards to my relation to the English. A young wife, plucked from the local nobility aught provide assistance in that.”

“There are a number of eligible young ladies who would not require you to be so involved in proving their lineage…” The man was unusually shrewd, but then again, Solus had to concede, he _was_ a solicitor.

He coughed delicately into his hand. “Lady [FN] and I have been… involved for a time. I wish to make our relationship more official.”

“So you wish to ensure your mistress’s claim to a title is watertight so you can make everything legal.” He carefully gathered everything and sorted it, “That shouldn’t be a problem, Count Galvus. I’ll petition the Crown on her behalf for a termination of abeyance. My fee will, of course, be dependent upon the hoops her Majesty may set, but things like this generally run three to five hundred pounds.”

Solus gave a short nod. 

“Very well,” the solicitor stood. “I’ll send a telegram once everything is complete.”

* * *

Thancred heard laughter in the halls as he excited his bedroom, and leaned against a wall as he watched Rinor teach the littlest ones how to tumble. Two maids were clucking irritably at each other at the foot of the stairs, going on about how Count Galvus would never stand for this.

He heard [FN]’s voice in the foyer, and the children swarmed her, begging for permission to go outside. Rinor nodded, and soon the young woman had taken a dozen or so toddling, half-feral children out with her into the moors. Thancred clicked his tongue, and Rinor glanced up, then grinned. The maids returned to their work as he bounded back up the stairs, and Thancred pulled him into the small guest room he had been using.

“We have to be quiet,” Thancred whispered, “You know how these people are.”

Rinor nodded, and positively preened when his lover’s fingers brushed through his dark blue hair. He’d been dying it since he joined the Midnight Circus, and he had to admit it had an effect on him. Their lips met for the first time since they’d arrived at Amaurot, and Thancred hadn’t realized how hungry for him he had been. “God, Rinor…”

The other man giggled playfully and whispered, “Didn’t you say we have to be quiet? You’re being awfully loud.” 

“Shut up. It’s your own fault for being perfect,” Thancred retorted, then pushed him down onto the bed.

Two hours later, [FN] came back inside to find Merritt standing at the foot of the stairs. “Where’s Rinor? The children are asking for him.”

Merritt tugged at his collar. “Indisposed. But shouldn’t you be having lunch?”

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. “You’re all like nursemaids, telling me to eat.” But still, she went to the dining room, and the butler sighed in relief. He would do his best to spare the two men upstairs the same torment that had cost him everything, though he was glad he’d ended up here. Despite the dour tone, and his suspicions regarding the Count, they all seemed to be finding a modicum of happiness.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Solus’s carriage at last trundled into the courtyard at Amaurot, and he was exhausted. Sleeping in a cramped hotel room all day was not his idea of a pleasant trip. Worse, it’d been over a week since he’d seen [FN]. His heart hammered in his chest as he glanced down at the small box containing the gift he’d bought her. _I’m not in love with her,_ he lied to himself, though now he was beginning to feel the lie constrict his throat. _Even if I am, she is not my Nhaama. Not my long-sought Persephone._

He tucked the box back into his valise and stepped down from the carriage while Sterling took the horses in hand. By the time he reached the door, Merritt was coming up the stairs from the servants’ quarters, still buttoning his cuffs. “Aah. Lord Solus. Welcome home.”

Solus sniffed. “It smells like dog in here. I thought those circus goers were to be kept outside the manor.”

Merritt winced. “I said as much, but Miss [FN] countermanded you and said they were to be permitted inside. And as you’d said she was to be treated as lady of the manor…”

He tried to keep the smile off his face. He really did. But the idea that [FN] had done something so ludicrous, and filled their home with _circus performers_ seemed so undeniably her that he couldn’t help but grin. “And what did she say when you informed her I had left instructions to the contrary?”

“That if you had a problem with it, you were welcome to take it up with her.” Merritt tugged his collar anxiously.

“I will, then,” He tightened his grip on his valise, and started for the stairs. If his heart could still beat it would be thrumming in his chest. Disobedience, defiance. She had done something dramatic of her own volition at last and he longed to take her to task for it in the most delicious way possible.

“M-my lord,” Merritt interrupted. “S-she’s in the basement.”

“Oh?” He turned and glanced towards the dark door. 

“Yes,” Merritt said. “When you’d been gone five days, she moved all her things down there. Said that it was her prerogative to share your chambers.”

“I see.” He tried to sound stern, but Merritt merely chuckled as he walked a bit more quickly than usual toward the basement door. “Good night, Merritt.”

“Good night, Lord Solus.”

* * *

[FN] woke suddenly to cold hands on her waist, pulling her against a cold chest. “Wha..?” She mumbled, then quickly came to complete consciousness. “Solu-”

He cut her off, pressing his mouth to hers and slipping his frigid tongue past her lips, anything else she would have said lost to his greediness. His hand slid from her waist to the hem of her chemise, pushing it up past her hips as he finally broke the kiss, rolling her onto her back. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. “You’ve just returned, you’re still cold from -”

“If you are the lady of the house, to countermand me and invite guests inside, then you are also the lady of the house in that you will submit to my desiring of you.” He said, and pressed her into the mattress, his cock probing her thighs until he found her entrance, then he hesitated before entering her. “Please,” he whispered, and searched her face. “I’ve missed you so, [FN]. I have yearned for you every moment I was gone. Please let me indulge.”

She smiled brilliantly and lifted her hips to try to pull him inside her. He whimpered for a moment, and that only spurred her on. “Solus,” she whined, “don’t tease me like this. You’re not the only one who’s missed someone.”

He lowered himself to the mattress and into her, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, desperately trying to pull him in deeper. “You missed me?” he murmured into her hair.

“Without cease,” she whispered. “I’ve become a fool for you, I fear.”

Solus laughed. “Then we’re both fools, indeed.” He bent his head and kissed her neck, one of those strange kisses that left her feeling dizzy and empty in a way only he could fill. Every thrust was a delight, and though his kisses were sharp and painful, they also sent strange urges passing through her, making her body answer to his with more eagerness each time.

Towards the end, as she twisted beneath him, her mind near-lost to pleasure, he whispered in her ear, “Do you love me?” Then he kissed her intensely again, in the little hollow just behind her earlobe.

“Yes,” she rasped, unable to stop herself from speaking. “I do, Solus. I love you passionately. Uncontrollably. Against my better judgement.”

“Good,” he replied, then forced her mouth open with his tongue, and kissed her so roughly she could taste the coppery tang of her own blood. 

Solus did not finish with her until well after sunrise, though she only knew it from the clock that sat on a desk against the far wall before he pulled the blankets up over them both, and they fell together into sleep.

* * *

“What is it?” [FN] asked, holding the small wooden box in her hands.

“Just open it,” Solus grumbled. He had never done gifts well. Normally these things were exchanges, or the gifts were small - a flower, a meal. But this was none of those things. It was a frippery, and an expensive one at that.

The little lid swung open and she gasped, holding up the necklace in the candlelight of the dining room, so that the light caught the garnet carved into a round flower, with a cluster of tiny diamonds in the center. She stared at it, open mouthed, on its long gold chain, but said nothing. In his awkwardness, he blurted, “It’s a locket.”

“A locket?” She asked, and let her fingers slide along the edges until she found the hidden latch. “It’s beautiful.” [FN] flushed a little. “Thank you, Solus.” She opened it and chewed her lip for a moment, then set it on the table, before picking up the knife at her place setting. “Hold still.”

“W-what?” He asked, but did as he was bade, and was surprised when she grabbed a thin lock of his hair, from just the edge of where the dark auburn met the white, and cut it from his head. She returned to her seat and coiled it around her finger, and placed it gently in the locket the clasped it shut again, before putting it around her neck.

“Y-you don’t want…” He glanced at the stack of papers beside his place setting, amongst which was a sketch of her parents he’d stolen from her stepmother’s home. “I thought you’d want to put your parents in it.”

“Why?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine. “It is not thoughts of _them_ that bring me comfort when I am lonely, Solus.”

He found himself at a loss for words.


	10. The Priest and the Prostitute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Augurelts arrive, and [FN] observes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like the chapter! It's a little longer than usual but somehow I don't think you'll mind.

“Solus.”

“Sooooluuusssss.”

_”SOLUS!”_

He opened his eyes and rolled them at [FN] playfully as she prodded him in the chest. She wore nothing but the locket he’d given her, and he took the liberty of letting his eyes sweep over her body. It had been six weeks now since he had returned from London, and he still found her irresistible.

“What is it?” he asked, taking the hand on his chest and nibbling at her fingertips softly. 

“A servant came ‘round with a note. Magnai and Rynn will be over later. Apparently the Augurelts have arrived?” Her voice lifted softly, making it a question.

“How delightful,” he grumbled. “I hope you like scholarly discourse and perversion, since those two are an endless font of both.”

[FN] smirked. “It will be nice to have some intellectually stimulating conversation for a change,” she teased. “Their note also made mention of a pilgrimage?”

“Yes, I think it best to have Urianger explain, though. It is his pilgrimage, after all.” Solus tugged on her hand and pulled her into his arms. “Now, let me have you.”

She came willingly, and he sank his teeth into her neck as he buried himself inside her. It was not a rough and forceful lovemaking - those he saved for the nights he would feed on her in earnest. This was just the two of them, their bodies twisted together in mutual adoration as he savored all the ways she delighted his preternatural senses.

“Solus,” she murmured his name, her throat vibrating with her voice, sending little tremors through his teeth as she tightened her hold on him. One of her hands was in his hair, and he could feel her fingers stroking his scalp, so tender it could break his calcified heart.

_What will really break your heart,_ a taunting voice whispered in his mind, _is when she dies._ The thought made him instantly nauseous, and he pulled his fangs from her abruptly.

“I-I’m sorry, [FN], I need to stop,” he whispered, pushing her away. Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t fight it. 

“Are you all right?” she said softly, cradling the side of his face in her hand before pulling away.

“I’m _fine_.” His voice was sharp. _She’s not my Nhaama,_ he reminded himself. _Mine probably died a hundred thousand years ago in some far flung corner of the world._ That was the cruelest price of being what he was. If you didn’t find your soulmate within a few centuries, it became increasingly likely they were already dead. In that way, he envied mortals. They only had to live a few decades of loneliness if they missed their chance.

He felt her withdraw from him, both physically and emotionally, and slowly pull herself back into the tea dress she’d come down in. “I’m going upstairs to prepare for our guests. You know where to find me.” He didn’t stop her, even when he heard her pause halfway up the stairs for a few moments, and caught the scent of her quiet tears in the silence of their bedroom.

* * *

“It’s been _ages_ since I’ve seen Solus,” Amadea said, applying lip color from a little pot with the experience of centuries as the carriage rattled along. She was the only other female of their kind Rynn had met, though she claimed to have met others, and the younger one was always scandalized by the things she did. Lip colors were only for actresses and whores, and, well, there was a _reason_ Solus and Magnai called them the Priest and the Prostitute.

The priest in question was nose deep in a ledger, seemingly ignoring the conversation, but he interjected, “He hath been in something of a sour mood since the Americans had their revolution, thou knowest that.”

“He was heavily invested in the colonies,” she murmured, already moving on to a pot of something black, and applying it to her eyelashes with a tiny, impractical brush. “Anyway, you mentioned he’s crawled out of his little hole, and Elidibus wanted us to check on him. What thoughts do you have on his state?”

Magnai chuckled. “He has found his Nhaama.”

That got Urianger to look up from his ledger. “No,” Amadea whispered, scandalized. 

“Yes,” Magnai countered. “He refuses to admit it though. You’ll meet the young lady tonight.”

“Speaking of which,” Rynn interjected and winced apologetically. “She’s _very_ sensitive about topics like fornication and prostitution.”

“And she’s _Solus’s_ soulmate?” She laughed. “I think I may be the only whore in the history of the world he _hasn’t_ had.”

“Perhaps thou shouldst not bring that up, beloved. And thou art not a whore any longer, so the matter is moot.” Her husband grumbled from his books.

“I could always change my mind,” she countered, but he wordlessly reached into his satchel and handed her a small pouch that jingled with coins. She dropped it back into the bag and kissed his cheek, leaving a smudge of lip color on his skin.

* * *

[FN] checked her reflection in the small hand-mirror Sterling had gifted her the week before as she stood outside the parlor. She wanted to make a good impression on Solus’s friends, especially after she had upset him earlier. She didn’t know what she had done specifically, but his rejection affected her in a way for which she had not been prepared.

Through the door, she heard Solus cough, and say, “All right, all right, but before she gets down here, there’s something that you should know about [FN].” She paused at hearing her name, and tucked the mirror into the hidden pocket the seamstress had added to her skirts.

“She’s your Nhaama?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice asked, and she could hear multiple people laugh. [FN]’s mind whirled. _That must be Lady Augurelt._

“Oh, for the love of -” Solus complained, “She’s _not_ my Nhaama.”

_Nhaama,_ [FN] thought to herself, _Isn’t that what Magnai calls Rynn? Doesn’t that just mean ‘wife’?_

“I beg to differ,” Magnai’s voice called.

“You would,” Solus scoffed. “_Regardless,_ the more important thing is that she does not _know_ about us.”

“What meanest thou?” a man’s voice, with a faint accent she couldn’t place and an archaic way of speaking. _Lord Augurelt?_ she thought.

“I mean,” Solus’s voice was heavy with irritation. “As far as [FN] knows, I am a reclusive nobleman who keeps odd hours. You are all my long-suffering friends who accomodate me. She thinks we’re mortal, still human.”

_Mortal? _Still_ human? Implying they were but aren’t any longer?_ [FN] began to back away from the door, but she felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder, and turned to see Thancred. 

The man said nothing, but gave her an affable smile. She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. “The idiot does love you, you know,” Thancred told her, and knocked on the parlor door before strolling away, leaving her to the mercy of… whatever it was Solus and his friends actually were.

* * *

A knock sent them all to silence, and Solus pulled open the door to find [FN] standing there, looking breathtaking as usual in some blue confection that he was already imagining crumpled in a heap on the floor by his bed.

“There you are. Come in.” He said, reaching for her reflexively. She seemed lost in thought, but stepped toward him, and he took her hand in his, pulling her close.

Her eyes looked up at him and seemed to focus. “You’re cold,” she said aloud.

“Well, come stand by the fire with me.” Solus said, but he frowned. [FN] was acting strangely, and he wasn’t sure why. Had he upset her more than he expected earlier? “Are you all right?”

Warily, she took a step closer to him and he put an arm around her shoulders protectively. Something had unnerved her, but he wouldn’t press her about it now, not in front of strangers.

“[FN], darling,” he kissed her temple and gestured to the couple standing near the chaise lounge. “These are the friends I told you about. Urianger Augurelt and his wife, Amadea.”

Extending her hand, [FN] bobbed a quick curtsey. “How do you do?”

“‘Tis a pleasure to meet thee, mademoiselle,” Urianger said, and pressed his lips to her knuckles in perfect formality.

As soon as he straightened, his wife came forward and kissed [FN]’s cheeks like Rynn had on their first meeting. “Oh, Solus, she’s precious. Will she be joining us?”

“I had hoped so, but I wanted Urianger to explain what he could about the Pilgrimage you take. And see if she’s interested in travelling.” He tugged her a little closer to him, and gave her a hopeful smile.

She seemed to be thinking. “I’m not averse to travelling, per se, but what is this ‘pilgrimage’ I hear so much about?”

Urianger smiled affably. “Dost thou mind if I take the floor from thee, Galvus?” 

Solus shook his head, and Amadea was so crass as to steal his customary armchair, so he took the chaise instead. He was discomfited as [FN] sat next to him, but kept a polite distance between them.

_Damnit all,_ he thought, _she’s cross with me._ He began glumly contemplating ways to make amends. Still, she was normally more understanding than that when it came to matters of the flesh. He could not shake the vague assumption that something else was wrong.

“I will attempt to keep this succinct, Miss [FN],” Urianger began.

“Good luck with that,” Amadea interjected sardonically, and he gave her a perturbed look, but did not rise to the bait.

“I am a member of an order which seeketh to catalogue all the knowledge amassed by humanity throughout history. We do so by travelling the world and collecting what tomes we may find at our destinations. I will not bore thee with maps and schedules, but sufficeth to say my wife and I shall be travelling to Greece, then on our way back stopping by Paris, where the head of our order keepeth his summer home.” Urianger smiled affably. “Thou art, of course, invited to join us, as I believeth Solus hath already mentioned?”

Solus glanced anxiously at [FN], suddenly desperate for her acceptance. He’d already agreed to join them, but she still seemed disturbed.

“I’ve never been to the continent,” [FN] replied, setting her jaw, and Solus felt immeasurably relieved when her hand found his and clutched it tightly. “But I’d love to go, if it is not too much of an imposition.”

“Of course not,” Amadea interjected. “I’ve been waiting for Solus to settle down for centu-” she coughed, abruptly. “For what feels like centuries. You’ll love the shopping.”

For a moment, Solus considered killing the woman and - Heaven help them all was she wearing _maquillage_? But [FN] was already speaking again.

“When do we depart?”

“In a week or so,” Urianger interjected. “I fear thy Solus hath made no preparations as of yet. We will be on the continent for six or so months, so thou shalt have to prepare for that.”

“I’ll need to order some new dresses,” [FN] murmured, tapping her chin. “Right, of course, forgive me. I’d love to join you if Solus does not object.”

“Splendid,” Urianger said. “Then I shall surrender the floor, and return to my work.”

* * *

They had whiled away the evening talking and drinking and [FN] had felt more and more the outsider as the hours passed. Though they didn’t do anything so rude as to exclude her, the inside jokes of long-time friends were a barrier she could not cross, causing her to lapse further into silence. Her only solace was, well, _Solus_, and his concerned glances. At least he was aware of her discomfort. Still, what she had heard earlier weighed on her heavily. She would get to the bottom of this, one way or another. If she was going to marry him, she deserved to know.

Once the guests were ensconced in bedrooms upstairs, Solus dragged [FN] back to bed and murmured apologies for earlier that night, and she was surprised - she had already forgotten his earlier rejection with everything else on her mind - but she let him sate himself regardless, though her enjoyment of it was distant. That only seemed to disquiet him, and he finally fell asleep with a troubled frown on his face.

With a sigh, she fished her hand mirror from the pocket of her gown, and went to unpin her hair as she sat on the side of the bed. As she let her hair free, she saw in her reflection Solus was no longer in the bed. She set the mirror and pins on the bedside table and turned to look for him, but there he was, where she’d left him, sleeping on top of the duvet. With a frown she lifted the mirror again, but no, his reflection was not there. On closer inspection, she could even see the depression in the sheets made by his weight.

[FN]’s breath came shallowly as she stared into the glass for a few moments. _What dark sorcery is this?_

She lowered the mirror and stared down at her gown, lost in thought, her emotions warring with her thoughts. The time was coming quick to make a decision, but for now, she needed to think. With silent movements, she pulled her gown back on, tucked away the mirror and pins, and headed for her rooms upstairs.

* * *

“I want to ride in the Moors,” [FN] said, her heart hammering in her chest. She needed to get away from Amaurot, to think.

“You know I can’t let you go alone. It’s not safe,” Sterling replied, but he stood and wiped his hands. “And I’ve duties to attend to, Lady [FN]. Maybe this evening Lord Solus will take you out…?

“No,” her voice was firm. “I need space. To think.”

The stablemaster regarded her for a few moments, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Thancred stepped into the stables. “I’ll take her.”

“There,” [FN] said triumphantly. “I have an escort. Will you saddle horses for us?”

Sterling nodded mutely, and soon enough [FN] found herself racing across the Moors, Thancred a few dozen yards behind. It was only when she’d lost sight of the manor that she slowed to a walk, patting the neck of the bay beneath her. Her companion came alongside her, and frowned. “You’re in a mood, aren’t you?”

[FN] said nothing for several minutes, staring out at the rolling hills as they plodded along. Finally, without preamble, she asked. “What would you do if you learned Rinor wasn’t human?”

“I- What?” He seemed shocked by her question. “I don’t… what are you on about? He’s my assistant, of course he’s human.” Thancred stared down at the dapple gray he was riding. “I’d know if he wasn’t.”

“I’m not as unobservant as you all seem to think I am,” she countered, and Thancred looked up in shock.

“L-look, [FN], we were only following Solus’s orders, to not tell you. He didn’t want you to know, he was worried how you’d react, and -”

“Oh, come off it, Thancred. I know Rinor’s your lover, and it doesn’t bother me,” she said, ignoring the man’s whispered “Oh thank God,” just continuing over him. “I am asking you what you would do if you learned he wasn’t human - that he was keeping a secret that large from you?”

He stared at her for a long time. “I would gather evidence. Be 100% sure, and have an idea of _what_ he was before I confronted him about it.” With a sigh, he turned his gaze from her and looked across the rolling hills. “I would still love him, of course. But Rinor is my other half. I’d deal with whatever it was, but sometimes fear makes people do stupid things. So I would want to be sure, and I’d present my evidence to him when we were alone. But my goal would be to make him admit what he was hiding, and to make him aware that it didn’t change my feelings for him. That’s the bigger question - once you’re sure, what you want to do? I cannot think of a thing that he could do that would make me stop loving him.”

She was crying. “Am I terrible that I feel the same way? I’m more angry that he’s keeping something like that a secret than that it’s true?”

“No,” Thancred said, and reached over, ruffling her hair. “You love him. It’s to be expected.” He laughed. “Some sins that seem unforgivable in others become understandable when it’s those we’d do anything to protect.”

She wiped her eyes, and they rode on in silence for a while, until something pale fluttered on the slope of the next hill.

Together, they rode closer, and [FN] slipped down from her horse, Thancred scrambling after. She stood by the half-buried piece of fabric her hands clenched in front of her stomach. It was the edge of a flower-printed bedsheet, and she remembered what Kitty had said months ago. 

_“When we were cleaning in the attic - There was a bed with flower-printed sheets. We couldn’t find the rest of the set, so decided to make them rags. It was an old set anyway, so if the others turn up we’ll just make them rags, too.”_

She turned to Thancred. “Bring me a shovel.”

“What? I’m sure we can get the groundskeeper to -” He began.

[FN] clenched her jaw, and repeated, her voice hard, “Get. Me. A. Shovel.”

Thancred returned with two shovels, and together, they unearthed the bundle. “You might want to look away,” he said, as he reached for the edge.

“No,” She reached down and pulled the sheet back herself, and winced at the sight of the half-decomposed corpse of an unfamiliar man. The smell was nearly as unbearable as the sight, and she gagged a little, leaning on the shovel for support.

“What do you want to do?” Thancred asked. [FN] knew this was a deeper question than just the immediate, but for now, she could only give him an immediate answer.

“Help me bury him again. Deeper this time. And get some stones. We’ll try to weigh him down so he isn’t unearthed as easily.” At least for now, she would bear up under this. If she had not objected to the barmaid, she could not object to this either. But she would find out what was going on.

Thancred left again, and when he returned, Rinor was with him, and the two men handled reburying the body without complaint while [FN] looked away, her arms crossed and her mind lost in thought.

Rinor came up and patted her shoulder, then helped her onto her horse. “You should get some rest. Solus will be up in another few hours.”

“No,” she said, but smiled down at her friend. “I will have a bath, then a bottle of wine, then see how I feel.”

Thancred laughed. “That’s also a way to deal with it.”

* * *

Solus woke to an empty bed, and scowled. [FN] had not enjoyed last night, and he had wanted to make amends, but she was not here. Grumbling under his breath, he dressed, and climbed the stairs to find her.

[FN] was in her bath, drinking a vintage older than she was directly from the bottle. She showed no modesty or objection when he strode into her room.

“My dear,” he began, “I-”

“Who was the man buried on the Moors?” She asked, interrupting him. “What was his name?”

He took a step back in shock. On the list of conversation topics he had considered, this certainly hadn’t been one of them. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy, Solus. It’s unbecoming.” [FN] took another drink from the bottle. “In the Moors beyond the manor there is a body that had managed to become unearthed, wrapped in a bed sheet that matches the rags Kitty and Martha use to clean the stairs.” She turned to look at him, and her eyes were flinty. “You needn’t worry, I buried the body again, deeper this time, with some rocks. Thancred and Rinor helped me. So, who was he?”

Solus’s mind whirled with deflections and circumlocutions, but something in her manner told him he would only incense her further if he tried. With an anxious swallow, he said, “His name was Renfield.”

“How did he die?”

“An illness, in his old age, I think. I was in seclusion and only saw him every few days at most. I only discovered he was dead when it had been a week and I went looking for him.”

“What was he to you?” Her questions were as sharp as her gaze, and he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“My servant. My accomplice.” He hated how easily she got him to admit the truth. This wasn’t _like_ him.

“And you did not kill him?” She took another drink of wine.

“No, [FN]. I did not.”

She set the bottle of wine down and buried her face in her hands.

“What can I do?” he asked weakly. He was at a loss to comfort her in this.

“Bring me my towel,” she commanded, and he did without complaint.


	11. Lady Heathfield [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus, [FN], and the others embark on their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAH! More smut enjoy.

_”You will answer my questions,”_ [FN] had said, _”Completely and honestly, whenever I should ask. I do not expect you to volunteer all of your secrets. God, you’ve probably got so many you can’t remember them all. But if you expect me to continue on as if this isn’t the second murder of yours I’ve learned of in as many months, then you will at least do me the curteousy of being honest.”_

Solus watched her now, sitting opposite him in the carriage, sandwiched between Rynn and Amadea, every inch the fashion plate as they rattled towards Dover a week after that conversation. He desperately wanted to know what she was thinking and planning, but somehow knew that the demands for honesty only went one way at the moment. He had kept his secrets too close, and now it was her turn to keep her own.

He had tried asking Magnai and Urianger obliquely about it, but the only conversation that lead to was a discussion on how few females of their kind existed. He thought despairingly of his sister, Igeyorhm, and her self-imposed exile after learning amongst the cultures that held sway, she would always be limited by the chains of her sex. It was a cruel thing, to force women to live eternally under their yoke - mayhap that was why those of his kind who had taken wives often gave them great latitude in what they would accept.

[FN] seemed to pay him no notice at all, her eyes fixed on the view outside the carriage. Of course she’d have no idea how that enticed him, the smooth lines of her neck framed by her pinned curls and delicate jawline, with her heartbeat fluttering sweetly at the center of it all.

Just as he’d managed to work up the nerve to engage her in conversation, the carriage pulled to a stop. “Thank the Gods,” Magnai grumbled, pushing open the carriage door and climbing out, then offering his hand to his wife. On his other side, Urianger did much the same for Amadea, and [FN] went to follow her, but Solus caught her arm in his grip. “My dear, I -”

She glanced back at him, her face cool. “It’s almost dawn, Solus. I know how you hate the sunlight. Let’s get inside.” Then she turned, and he realized he’d been so thoroughly dismissed that he released her arm without another word, and Urianger helped her down from the carriage.

The hotel was well-appointed, and as he checked them all in, to his shock, he saw that she had made the reservation as his wife, and organized for them to share a room. They had not shared a bed since their conversation, and Sterling, whom they’d brought along to serve as manservant and extra person to feed from, was looking a little worse for wear. His mouth watered at the idea of being close to her again, being permitted to taste her again. He glanced over at her while he scrawled his signature, and he saw the barest flicker of a smirk before she turned away, back to her conversation with Rynn.

* * *

[FN] looked out the window of their hotel room as the sky above began to lighten, breaking up the pre-dawn gloom. She had been surprised to find Amadea in a shadowy corner of the parlor at sunset the week before. She didn’t know why, but she suspected that the woman kept similar hours to Solus, waking after the sun went down, going to bed just before dawn.

> “You’re awake!” 
> 
> Amadea laughed. “I am. Urianger says his evening prayers at sundown, and I can’t sleep without him there.”
> 
> “Your husband is certainly religious,” she replied.
> 
> The older woman chuckled behind her hand. “Quite. But my dear, you look like you could use a bath.”
> 
> It was true, as she was still smeared with dirt and tears from burying the poor man she and Thancred had found in the moors. “The servants are heating some water for it now. Forgive me.”
> 
> Amadea waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Solus.”
> 
> “At the moment, I don’t particularly care if you do,” [FN] had been so angry, then.
> 
> “He has displeased you.” It wasn’t a question. “What will you do?”
> 
> “What can I do? He just…” She sighed and poured herself a glass of brandy from the sideboard, drinking it in one gulp. It burned going down, but that somehow made her anger easier to bear. “No matter how I try to make him happy, he just toys with me. He vacillates between hot and cold, clingy and distant, and -” [FN] stopped when she realized Amadea was laughing. “What?”
> 
> “You really are young, aren’t you?”
> 
> “I’m nineteen.”
> 
> “Very young.” Amadea beckoned her closer. “I will tell you a secret about Solus, something I learned over the years I’ve known him.”
> 
> [FN] raised the bottle of brandy with a curious look on her face, but Amadea shook her head, and so the girl approached with only her own glass. “What’s the secret?”
> 
> “Solus is a tempermental old fool. That much you’ve figured out. But from my estimation, you’ve got it backwards. You throw your affection at him, in the hopes that he will return your ardor. The secret is: Solus loves to suffer. If you want him to adore you, to chase after you, to shower you with the affection you desire, then ignore him.” The older woman laughed, and [FN] felt a momentarily lurch as she noticed her teeth were strangely shaped - just a little too long, a little too sharp. “He will be desperate to regain the upper hand, and frantic at the reminder that though your love may be unconditional your approval and affection are not.”
> 
> “How do you know this?”
> 
> “I’ve been reading men like him since I was a child. You have to, in my line of work.” Amadea shook her head.
> 
> “What is your line of work?” 
> 
> The question made the woman uneasy. “I was told not to tell you - that you were sensitive to the topic.”
> 
> “Solus bought me at auction,” [FN] blurted out. “I was good, I did everything I was told to do, and still -”
> 
> Amadea put her arms around her and stroked her hair as night claimed the world outside. “And still you ended up for sale, because life is cruel to women.” She pulled herself away. “Solus loves you. He doesn’t see it yet, and he doesn’t understand it, but all the rest of us have. I promise you, [FN], he will love you until the end of time, just as soon as he pulls his head out of his ass.” Amadea planted a motherly kiss on her forehead, and giggled. “For now, make him suffer for his idiocy. It will be entertaining for all of us but him.”

Solus shut the door quietly behind the bellhop that had brought up their bags. She could sense him there, waiting near the door, anxious and discomfited by her silence. It was not that Amadea’s advice had worked that surprised her, but the fact that it had worked _so well._

_Time to see if she was right about the rest of it,_ [FN] thought. “Solus?”

He was at her elbow in an instant. “Yes, my dear?”

“Are you cross with me?”

“Why would you think I was cross with you?” He asked, and reached past her, tugging the curtains closed to ensure no light reached the room’s interior.

“It’s been a week, and you’ve given me no sign of your affection since I demanded your honesty. I don’t know what I will do with myself if the price of at least _knowing_ what is going on in my life is your affection.” She turned to face him, and giggled softly at his scowl.

“You’ve been talking to that Venetian, haven’t you.”

“She said you would realize what a fool you’re being, if I made you suffer.” She did not fight it when Solus put his arms around her waist. “You think yourself so horrible that at the slightest sign of my disapproval you begin to spiral out of control. She said it was ‘one of the ways you know,’ but wouldn’t clarify what she meant by that.” His scowl deepened, but [FN] put her arms around his shoulders. “Regardless, I’ve missed you. Don’t be so distant with me, Solus.”

“She’s wrong. It doesn’t mean anything. I just do not wish to trouble you overmuch.” He sulked pitifully.

“What ‘troubles me overmuch’ is your rejection.” 

He finally looked at her again, and she was struck anew by how his gold eyes seemed to pin her to the spot. “Why?”

“You know why,” she said, and started to pull away from him, but his grip went from strong to vise-like, and she could not escape him.

“Say it,” he whispered, his lips already at her throat. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Why?” she asked, turning the question back on him.

“Because this last week has been the longest of my life, having you so close and yet so far,” Solus dragged his teeth along her throat. “It has been an exquisite torture. Now, tell me why you care if I reject you.” 

He kissed her neck, another of his intense kisses that seemed to be on the verge of tugging her heart from her chest, and she found she couldn’t resist the urge to tell him the truth. “I love you,” she whimpered. “I adore you. I want to be close to you, to share everything with you. I don’t care what you are, I don’t care how many bodies that pile up behind you, I-” Her breath was cut off as he clutched her tighter and carried her to the bed, not even deigning to undress either of them, just unfastening his pants and pushing up her skirts. 

Solus tore his teeth from her neck and focused on her sex, parting her bloomers and entering her with single-minded desire. “[FN],” he groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head drop to her chest. “Do not close your heart to me like that again.” She could do little more than gasp desperately for breath between his thrusts, as their strength - combined with his weight on her chest and the tightness of her corset - drove the air from her lungs and the thoughts from her mind. 

“If you would have this, have all of me, then you will give me the same,” he said, and she felt his hands on her wrists, pinning her arms down to the bed. “There will be no more toying or coquettishness between us. You will give me your soul and I will give you my secrets; I will live for you and you will die for me. Do you understand?” As he spoke, his voice became more and more ragged, and she could feel him losing control of himself between her thighs. “If you betray me, I will kill you. Not for the joy or pleasure of it but because what you ask of me is more vulnerability than I can bear to give for anything less.”

She tried to answer, but the moment her lips parted his mouth was on hers, and she could taste her own blood on his tongue. His thrusts became erratic, and when he finally came within her, she was crushed in his grasp, wrapped tight in a cocoon of wool and velvet and whalebone.

He finally released her and rolled onto his back beside her, staring up at the ceiling. “Is that agreement amenable to you?”

“So long as I need not fear you otherwise,” she said. “I will gladly love you and hide what you are, but I don’t want to live in fear that you will turn your murderous impulses on me. I want to know that I am safe with you.”

“I will not kill you, nor will I permit another to do so, no matter the cost,” his voice was strained. “Zodiark, but I love you, [FN], for all the fool it makes me.”

“Then we are agreed. Now help me out of this damnable dress. I think you bent something.”

Their mingled laughter carried them through undressing, until they tumbled into the bed again, nude and breathless and desperately in love. 

“So,” [FN] murmured as she floated in that hazy world between sleep and wakefulness. “When are you going to tell me you’re a vampire?”

“Don’t use that word,” he grumbled. “And we can discuss it in the carriage to Paris.”

* * *

That afternoon, Sterling and Douglas were sharing drinks in the hotel bar when [FN] came down the stairs, already dressed and prepared for travel. Together, they glanced down at the telegram between them.

“Lady [FN]!” Douglas called, and she made her way toward them, frowning disapprovingly.

“It’s barely five, gentlemen. Drinking already?”

“Well, we want to be sober in time for the ferry,” Douglas replied. “But we were given a strange telegram by the staff, they weren’t sure to whom it belonged, and as Count Galvus is still sleeping, we thought you might.”

He held out the card to her, and she took it with a sigh. “Well, to whom is it addressed?”

“One Lady Heathfield, under the care of Lord Galvus,” Douglas replied, and Sterling noticed instantly the way her already pale face became even paler, and she tore into the envelope with trembling hands.

“Do you know Lady Heathfield?” Sterling asked, standing from his stool and frowning in concern.

“She was my grandmother,” [FN] replied faintly, her eyes flicking back and forth as she read the telegram. “I need to speak with Solus.”

She turned and started walking away, but Sterling followed her into the stairwell. “[FN], wait, I…”

“What is it, Sterling?” 

“I got you something,” he said, and fished in his satchel a moment. “A… book. I thought you’d like something to read while travelling.” He held it out to her, and their fingers brushed as she took it. God in heaven, when had he fallen in love with her? 

“Vampire City?” she asked, and her smile had a strange twist to it. “Why this, of all books?”

He would save her from the Count. He had to. Solus had told him how she’d suffered when he fed from him, how she had grown up unloved and uncherished. The vampire had become obsessed with her. And if he and the other Templars failed, eventually, Solus would consume her. “I’ve h-heard it’s popular.”

[FN] laughed. “Thank you, Sterling,” she said, and he watched her vanish up the stairs, book in hand. Hopefully it would give her enough clues to put the pieces together herself, and tearing her away wouldn’t be difficult.

“I will save you, [FN],” he whispered to the empty stairwell. “I swear it.”

* * *

A few hours after sunset, they boarded the carriage to Paris after the ferry to Calais, and despite his best efforts, Solus could not keep the smile from his face. [FN] was his, _completely_ his, content to serve his needs, and all he need do is play the doting husband for a few decades. He didn’t think about what would happen after. His mind shied away from _after_.

All he could bend his mind to was the moment, her soft smiles and tilted head. He had promised to answer her questions, and when she’d returned to their room that afternoon, clutching book and telegram, he’d made her wait so that he could enjoy the soft pleasures of her flesh instead.

Now he had her by his side, one of his arms draped about her shoulders and his lips pressed to the shell of her ear. “I cannot wait to get you to Paris, [FN],” he purred, “We’ll stay there a few nights, then move on to Sardinia, then Venice, then on to Greece.”

“You said you would answer my questions in the carriage,” she said softly. “Will you?”

“Oh,” he grumbled, and pouted as he had to pull himself away from her. “Right.”

The others looked at the two of them quizzically, save Amadea, who, as usual, looked like everything around her was a fantastic joke. Solus coughed to get their attention, not that it was really needed, and said, “[FN] has figured out what we are. She has a number of questions, but before she asks I think I should remind you _all_ that she is under my protection, and I’d hate to have to murder you.” He turned back to her and nibbled her earlobe, letting the edge of his fang brush the tender skin. “Go ahead, my dear.”

She blushed faintly. “How did you know my grandmother?”


	12. Unasked Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive in Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, the holidays have done a _number_ on my writing schedule.

“Your _what?”_ Solus asked, confusion evident on his face. 

“My grandmother, Lady Heathfield.” [FN] reminded. “We received a rather _interesting_ telegram addressed to her.”

Rynn giggled behind her hand at Amadea and loudly whispered, “This will be good.”

“I…” The confusion gave way to dawning understanding. _”Oh._ I had to take care of some business regarding your stepmother’s estate.”

“Her _estate?”_ [FN] blinked once, slowly. “Implying she’s no longer amongst the living.”

Solus had intended to broach this news a little differently, so yet again found himself grasping for words. How did this woman always manage to discomfit him so easily?

Seeing his distress, she patted his hand gently. “She made it quite clear that with her sale of me to Mr. Morgan, she considered any filial responsibility between us to be at an end. But I’m curious as to how you are involved in it, and have a suspicion it has something to do with me.”

Solus turned to Magnai and opened his mouth, but [FN] continued. “You killed her, didn’t you?”

He glanced back at [FN]. “A little.” 

She closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. “That’s three.”

“Four,” Solus corrected sheepishly. “Her husband is also deceased.”

“Any other murders you’d like to own up to while we’re on the topic, Solus?” Their eyes met, and he realized that while she was irritated, she was also _teasing_ him. 

Two could play that game. “Napoleon.”

She laughed, and Rynn gasped. “No.”

“Oh, yes. I was tired of his destabilization of Europe. It made trade irritating.” Solus sighed. “My dear, if you want to know everyone I’ve killed you’ll be ancient before we’ve completed a tenth of the list, and that’s only the ones whose names I remember.” He leaned closer and kissed her forehead. “I am the oldest thing on this continent, by a significant margin, and I’ve had to feed enough to kill a grown man at least once a _week_ that entire time.”

“How old _are_ you?” He understood it was a question born of shock, not callousness, but still, it stung. He liked to forget, to let the unimportant millenia fall into the seas of his subconscious and focus on the now.

“I don’t know.” The answer was, at least, honest. “I was turned long before humanity learned to track the days beyond ‘sometimes it is cold and sometimes it is warm.’” Her lips parted, and he brushed her cheek with one hand. “You once asked if Solus was my real name,” he said quietly. “The truth is, I’ve had more names than millenia, and I’ve had hundreds of those. Solus is just one I’ve used a few times - in Ancient Rome, in Gaul, and now in England. My true name is something I have not spoken since before your vaunted _’Savior’_ drew his first breath. Maybe one day I will tell you. But… it is too private, even for these friends of mine.”

“It is no insult to you,” Magnai interjected. “Not even I know it, and I’ve been with him the longest.”

[FN] seemed to consider a moment. “Very well. But I have other questions - How old are the rest of you?”

“Magnai and I are both approaching our seventh century,” Urianger offered. “We were made within a few decades of each other.” 

“Practically twins by _our_ reckoning,” Amadea said. “I’m a little over three hundred.”

Rynn smiled. “Twenty-nine.” She patted [FN]’s hand. “Magnai turned me the night he bought me, last year.”

The two youngest passengers stared at each other for a moment, then [FN] asked, “Does it get easier?”

“Does what get easier?” Rynn’s brow furrowed in concern.

“The _distance.”_ The older ones looked at them both in confusion, but the understanding in Rynn’s eyes brought [FN] more comfort than she could express.

“It does, but it takes time.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her, and she settled back into his arms. “All right. Some more practical questions - I know you do not cast reflections, and you consume blood. What other strengths and weaknesses should I be aware of?”

The conversation quickly devolved into a dissection of preternatural abilities and something flickered in Solus’s chest as she listened in rapt attention, asking questions, interjecting, completely unafraid despite the fact that she was a wounded calf in amongst the lions. He knew no one in this carriage would harm her - he could kill any and all of them in an instant, age only made them better, like wine. But the trust she showed him, in his promise to protect her… 

“What about you?”

[FN]’s question pulled him up short, and Solus shook his head. “Forgive me, I was distracted by my thoughts, what about me?”

“We were discussing the gifts individual members of our kind are given. Like Urianger’s eidetic memory and my strength,” Magnai said, smirking from his shadowy corner of the carriage.

“Aah. Truth. If I bite someone they are compelled to tell me the truth.” He only realized that _she_ realized what that meant in regards to her declarations that morning when the blush swept down from her face beneath the neckline of her gown in a single heartbeat, and he laughed. He pressed his hand to the wall of the carriage and leaned over her, sweeping his lips along the shell of her ear. “Exactly.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Amadea said, and kicked Solus with the toe of one of her silk slippers. “Not while we’re all stuck in this bloody carriage with you.”

“N-no we don’t what?” [FN] asked, but Solus gave the woman a glare.

“I’m not interested in spending the next few hours being forced to watch the two of you engage in some impromptu basket-making,” the elder woman sniffed. “Besides. If I can’t get Urianger to emulate St. George for an evening without having to listen to all fifteen decades of the rosary, I’m certainly not going to let you offend his delicate sensibilities.” Though the priest across from her said nothing - only looked at his ledgers - a small smile played on his lips.

* * *

Thancred lounged against a tree, watching Rinor and the other acrobats practice a new routine for the circus, when a soft cough drew his attention to Merritt, who lingered nearby.

“Yes?”

“Some men have come to the house, said they’re here to install the new gas lighting at Lord Solus’s request,” Merritt said.

“And…” Thancred wished he’d get to the point.

“Something seems… off.” The butler shifted uncomfortably. “I was hoping you could have someone tail them.”

“What about Fletcher?”

“Run off with Bertram, it seems. They’ve been thick as thieves recently.”

Thancred rubbed his chin. “I’ll handle it.”

Merritt lowered his head in acknowledgement, and strode toward the house, while Thancred jogged across the field toward Rinor. “Gather the children,” he said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I have a game I want them to play.”

Within minutes, Thancred found himself surrounded by children. He rarely addressed them directly, leaving that to Rinor or their parents, but he knew that his attention would make them take this task seriously. 

“I have heard from the butler that there are strange men in the manor,” Thancred said. “I want you to spy on them. Find out what they are doing. Not just what they _seem_ to be doing, but what they are actually doing.” He grinned wickedly, and the children all began to giggle. “Bring anything you learn to Rinor. Then he and I will discuss what you have learned, and decide on a prize based on how much information you managed to gather.” This was the way of their kind - they were never in competition with each other, not as children. They learned to work as a group to achieve a goal. And no one suspected a group of ragamuffins they way they would grown men.

Soon the children were off, shrieking in delight as they ran toward the manor. Rinor turned to go back to the tumbling, but Thancred caught his arm. “Merritt’s right, _kotyonok._” The younger man grinned at the pet name. “Something’s off. Find Fletcher and Bertram. I want to know what they’ve been up to.”

Rinor stood on his toes and nipped gently at Thancred’s earlobe, eliciting a gasp before he ran off, laughing.

* * *

They had a few hours before dawn when their carriage finally arrived in Paris, and to [FN]’s delight, the city was still teeming with life. Magnai and Urianger were arguing about something involving a telegram while Amadea and Rynn made arrangements with a strange inn. It was strange, in that it had no windows and only a single door. Solus seemed uncomfortable, as if he was going to say something, but kept thinking better of it.

“What is it?” [FN] finally asked, turning to face him fully.

He frowned. “Would you be more comfortable in a different hotel?” 

“I… haven’t even seen this one.” Though it was a statement, her voice twisted up at the end with inquiry. “Is there some reason you don’t think I would be comfortable here?”

“It’s…” Solus chewed his lower lip. “This hotel specializes in our kind. Not yours. And while you’re friends with…” his voice trailed off as he looked at her.

“Solus,” her voice was soft. “I am not going to object that my fiancé would like to spend time with his own people occasionally.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel unsafe. You will be…” Solus cursed. “You’ll be an apple amidst a horde of hungry horses.”

[FN] stepped closer to him, far closer than decorum allowed, and looked up into his golden eyes. She could see the way his brows furrowed slightly with concern, but also the way her closeness made his jaw tighten with desire. “I suppose it is a good thing, then, that there is at least one horse interested in keeping this apple to himself.”

“Are you comparing me to a horse?” He frowned in disapproval.

Courage twisted in her spine. If she was going to do this, to marry and live with a _vampire,_ then she was going to jump in feet first. “Well, you’re certainly good for riding,” she purred, though the innuendo made her cheeks heat almost instantaneously. “And last time I inquired, I happen to be your favorite thing to eat.”

Solus’s frown melted away in an instant, replaced by a ridiculous grin. “Careful, pet. If you keep that up we’ll never make it to Greece.”

“Oh, I think that will have flown out the window by morning,” she admitted. “I’m due to be indelicate.”

His eyes widened, and he abruptly turned to Magnai. “I’ll be taking [FN] to Hotel Winchester, over on Rue de la Paix. I don’t think this place is safe for her.”

“Solus?” she asked in confusion. “I thought -” 

His teeth were at her ear suddenly, and terror and desire warred for control of her spine. “If you think I am going to let you sleep in the same building, sealed in with a few dozen vampires, when you taste and smell as you do during that time…” Solus’s voice was more growl than silk at the moment, but he quickly got control of himself again, and straightened. “Magnai. We’ll be extending our stay in Paris to the full week. Sterling. You are to present yourself at the Hotel Winchester and see to Lady [FN]’s needs during the day, ensure she goes nowhere unescorted.” 

Urianger raised an eyebrow. “Thou hast such sudden haste, Solus. One wouldst think aught were amiss?”

“It’s none of your concern.” He snapped back. “Enjoy Paris.” Then, to [FN]’s eternal surprise, he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and took a few steps towards the city center, only to be interrupted by another walking towards them.

“Come now, Solus,” the unfamiliar voice said, “Do you not intend to introduce us?”

[FN] twisted on his shoulder but all she caught was the edge of dark hair and pale skin before Solus set her down. “Hien,” he said. “How’s your…”

“My Nhaama is well. Thank you for your concern.” There was a strange tightness in the man’s voice, and [FN] turned to look at him fully - silks folded over each other in an oriental fashion, and a kind smile. 

“Right,” Solus said. “Hien, this is my fiancée, [FN] [LN]. My dear, this is Hien of Japan, one of my many errant children.”

“To be fair, Solus, my lack of filial affection is your own doing. Leaving me stranded on the coast of China does have that effect. I’m only lucky Y’shtola found me and explained the way of things.” Hien smiled slightly, and bowed. “But a fiancée? Never thought I’d hear of the day you showed any true devotion to anyone. Finally found the one who holds your 運命の赤い糸?”

[FN] stared blankly at the switch into a foreign tongue, but Solus growled. “For the last damnable time, she’s not my Nhaama, she does not hold my leash, she’s just… comfortable. I like having her around.”

“Do you intend to turn her?” Hien asked, and the way he looked at her, she saw it then, the malice. Not for her, but for Solus - a deep well of hatred that ran near to the core of his soul. 

The question made Solus stiffen even further, and he was working something in his jaw. “We haven’t discussed it. We’ve only met a few months ago.”

“I see.” Hien tilted his head. “Well, I will convey your concerns to Midori. Hopefully we will see you again before you depart Paris.” He bowed respectfully to [FN]. “My lady,” he said, then strolled without concern towards the hotel.

Solus all but dragged her away, until they’d put three blocks and a bridge between themselves and the strange man. Then he turned and shook her. “Listen to me, [FN].” Her eyes met his, and for the first time she saw fear. _Real_ fear. “You are not to leave my side after sundown until we leave Paris. If you see that man again, you tell me that instant. If you see him and you aren’t with me, even if it’s midday, even if you think it’s just a face in the crowd you mistook for him, you drop everything and return to me _at once.”_

“Solus,” she laughed anxiously at his sudden fervor. “I’ve never seen you so adamant before. Who is he?”

“As I said, one of my…” He pressed his forehead to hers. “There’s no easy way to say this, so forgive me if I’m crass.”

[FN] nodded, and didn’t argue as he began to walk her through the streets at a pace that left her almost breathless.

“He was one of those I turned. I was… very drunk for a few decades there. Magnai had been running around the continent looking for his _’Nhaama’_, and become convinced that a young woman we met in Moscow was her.” He growled. “She shook him off of course, but he would not be denied. He chased her down, and nearly killed her trying to prove she was his. I was forced to turn her, and she did not appreciate it, but I could not let Magnai have her murder on his conscience.” 

They passed a number of bakeries opening up for the morning, and Solus purchased a leftover croissant for her to eat, and slowed his pace. His thoughtfulness, even amidst his monologue, touched her more than she was willing to let on.

“Y’shtola was her name. And she despised me. But I did my duty, explained what she was, how to survive, and took her with me south into China, to put some distance between us and Magnai while he stewed over what he’d done.” He shook his head. “After she was properly educated, she left, and I found myself… unusually morose. I get that way, sometimes.” 

He chuckled. “It was easier to drink to excess and try to forget. So I spent decades drunk off my arse, tearing through China. While in Nanjing I stumbled upon a group of men who were different from the rest. From what you would call Japan. I got into a fight and... “ he sighed. “I accidentally turned one of them. Their swords are sharp.”

“Accidentally?” she asked. 

He nodded. “I’d intended to kill him. Bleed him dry and all that, then go about my idiocy. But as I said, their swords are sharp. Those are the two conditions to make one of us - the intended must be at death’s door, and must get some of our blood into them.” 

They stopped outside of a large Hotel, and after a few words, and an exchange, were ushered to an upper floor room. Solus relaxed at last, once there was a locked door between him and the outside world. “And… that’s where I thought his story ended. I left. Y’shtola came through after. She’d been looking for me, having just met Nabriales for the first time, and she had some questions. Instead she stumbled upon a confused samurai wandering the streets killing people and failing to commit seppuku with his damnable sword.”

Solus ran a hand down [FN]’s back as he sat beside her. “She taught him what I’d taught her, and then one day he just left. Said he had unfinished business in his homeland. That death did not stop some duties. A few decades later he showed up on the mainland again, in Constantinople, arm-in-arm with his Nhaama.” He swallowed. “She didn’t handle the turning as well as he did. Do you remember what we spoke of in the carriage? The abilities some of us receive?”

[FN] nodded slowly. “Like Magnai being exceptionally strong, or Urianger’s eidetic memory, right?”

“Quite right. Haven’t figured out Rynn’s, yet, but she’s young, so that’s not surprising. Amadea can look at someone and see what they desire more than anything else.” Solus grumbled.

“No wonder you hate her,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Midori receives visions of the future… but the future is not set in stone. All she can give are vague warnings, but she’s constantly tortured by the infinite possibilities of what _may_ be. It’s probably how Hien found me.”

“I thought Magnai and Urianger summoned him. They were talking about having sent a telegram to an old friend?” [FN] didn’t fight as Solus began unpinning her hair, running his fingers through her curls.

“No, they sent a telegram to _Magnai’s_ old friend, not mine. Sidurgu of the Orl tribe, an ancient hero of Magnai’s people. He was turned by one of my brothers - I think Lahabrea? - when he passed through the area a few centuries before I found Magnai. They are good friends, and correspond often. Magnai’s eager to introduce his Nhaama to him, when we pass through Vienna.” Solus chuckled. “If I remember right the man’s a bloody menace.”

[FN] paused. “What about Hien’s other question?” She worried her lip.

Solus looked at the ground. “I don’t know, yet. You’re very young. As far as I can tell, I was almost forty when it happened for me. Magnai and I toyed around for years, but he’s technically a fair bit younger than Rynn. Amadea was twenty-seven. Urianger was thirty-two. You’re…”

“Nineteen,” she finished.

“It isn’t a bridge we need to cross or discuss yet. For now, you should settle into what this life will be for you.” He stared blankly at a nearby wall.

“The others all keep talking about soulmates and Nhaamas. Numerous times people have asked if I’m yours. I think I understand, but I don’t want to be in the dark.” She placed a hand on his leg. “Please explain.”

Rubbing his temple, Solus grumbled. “Fools and ingrates. It’s very simple, but also very complicated. Everyone has a soulmate. _Everyone_. The rub is that the world is a very large place, and mortal lives are so brief, you rarely find yours. With our kind, it’s even worse - mortal lives are so brief compared to ours, that your Nhaama is not but a brief flicker of a candle flame, there and gone again. If you’re not in the right place, at the right time, you miss them completely.”

“Have any ever been turned separately, then found each other?” [FN] asked, and that made Solus smile a little. 

“Yes. Elidibus and his Nhaama. She was turned by our brothers, Mitron and Loghrif.” His eyes got a far away look, remembering. “He stumbled upon her robbing an egyptian tomb for its valuables, while he robbed it for its scrolls.” He kissed her forehead. “Ran off with her to his frozen hellscape.”

The question hung between them, the one she had not asked, but Solus answered it anyway. “You’re not my Nhaama.”


	13. Wouldn't Say Anything [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] is introduced to Opera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a sex scene that is why the tags have changed. Be mindful of those changes before you forge ahead.

[FN] tried to convince herself his statement hadn’t hurt. She tried not to think about it - not when he sated his thirst between her thighs, not when he held her in the dark, not when he whispered that he loved her. The rejection stung in a way she hadn’t expected, a knife into something deep in her heart she didn’t really understand. Once he’d fallen asleep after having her a second time just before dawn, she took the book Sterling had given her and made her way down to the small cafe on the ground floor.

For a few hours she sat undisturbed, reading about Ann Radcliffe and her adventures in Selene, the titular _Vampire City_, but it wasn’t really amusing. So much of what the book described was wrong or inaccurate, and she found herself more frustrated than anything else by the pages. She was almost thankful when Sterling appeared, bowing low. 

“Lady [FN],” he began. “How are you?” 

“Tired,” She answered honestly. “I…” Their eyes met, and he gave her an understanding smile. “Count Solus and I are having difficulties.” She said lamely. Easier to put it that way than to say, _”I’ve offered everything to this vampire at his request, and I still feel like there’s something he’s holding back.”_

Sterling gave her a sympathetic smile, and placed his hand over hers. “Why don’t I take you to see the sights. Get your mind off of it. I know you are not Catholic, but the cathedrals here are lovely. And the Louvre has quite the art collection.”

[FN] laughed. “You enjoy art?”

“I do,” he said. “Not all of us can be kings or counts or priests or prophets. Life just doesn’t work that way. But we do what we can, and it is because of the tireless efforts of people like me that such great things can be accomplished.”

“You know, don’t you?” she asked, looking down at the book.

“I do,” he said quietly. “I’m the one he goes to when you’re too weak - unless he’s killing someone.” Sterling paused for a breath. “When did you learn?”

“I suspected last week, but then just after you gave me the book, I…”

“What will you do?” he asked the question with a sidelong glance.

She considered her options. “For now? Go along with things until we return to England. I will see how I feel about it all then.”

“You’re not afraid?” 

“Oh, Sterling,” she laughed. “I’m terrified.”

"[FN]," he said, his voice strangely gruff, "You will be alright. I promise."

"How can you be sure?" She asked.

Sterling grinned. "You have the uncanny ability to survive everything that comes your way. You lived your whole life in the shadow of your step mother's avarice. That would break most people. But when you had the chance - the barest glimmer of a chance - to have something more, you took it. Now you have a manor, servants, and a clutch of vampires wrapped around your little finger." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. 

"But this is all happenstance," she argued. "I've just fallen into it. None of it is my own making."

"All our lives are happenstance. What matters is what we do with the choices given to us." He laughed. "Come on. I'm sure you are exhausted, but a short walk will help you relax so you can sleep."

Just outside the hotel, Sterling sighed. “I have something to give you, [FN], but it’s… I need you to be careful.”

She eyed him warily and as they rounded the corner he reached into his coat, turning to shock as he pulled out a small revolver. “Where did you get _that?_” she gasped.

“I fought in the Crimean War.” His voice was distant. “[FN], I just want you to be safe. This won’t kill them, but it will certainly slow them down. The only ways to kill them are sunlight, decapitation, and fire.”

Sterling placed the gun in her hands, and [FN] was surprised by the weight of it. “Not a stake?” She laughed softly.

He chuckled. “A stake to the heart can only pin them to the spot. They freeze up when you do it, but it doesn’t kill them. If the stake is removed before they are killed, they will just heal.”

“Why are you giving me this?” [FN] asked.

“I will not always be there to protect you,” Sterling said, placing a hand on her cheek. “But this will give them pause, and call others to the scene. If I hear it, you can be certain I’ll come running.” 

They paused for the barest instant, and [FN] realized he was thinking about kissing her. Her mind began to spin at the implications, Solus’s potential reaction, everything, but the cool voice that oft gave her strength, the same one that had reburied that poor old man in the moors, carefully took those thoughts and put them aside. _Later._

“I’m tired,” she said as he leaned closer.

“Of course.” If Sterling was disappointed by her reaction, he gave no sign. “Let me get you back to your room.”

She put the revolver in her handbag.

* * *

Two hours before sunset, [FN] descended the stairs and found herself taking Sterling’s hand again. “I need real food.”

“Supper then,” he said. “Where would you like to go?”

“Somewhere you can eat with me. I…” She sighed. “I’m always eating alone.”

“Always awkward to be the only one eating. But if we go, we’re going as friends, not a lady and her servant.” 

Something in his tone made [FN]’s breath catch in her throat, but she grinned. “Yes.”

Sterling tugged her after him, down the street to a public house, and they had dinner together, laughing and drinking, she almost missed the sun slipping beyond the horizon.

“Oh no, Solus will -” She began, but her companion shook his head. 

“I’ll handle him, don’t worry.” He speared a piece of beef off his own plate, and held his fork out to her. “Eat this.”

Without thinking, she leaned over and took the morsel in her mouth, only realizing afterwards the indirect kiss they were sharing. Sterling realized it too, judging by the way the corner of his mouth tugged up in a crooked smile. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” He said softly.

When they returned to Hotel Winchester Sterling apologized to Solus, and explained that [FN] was looking rather pale so he thought he would force her to eat some dinner before bringing her back, and service at the public house was slow.

Solus nodded. “Very well. Just be more careful in the future.”

“Of course, sir,” Sterling turned to her. “You mentioned you wished to go shopping tomorrow, my lady?”

She’d said nothing of the sort, but something in his gaze, some impish mischief, made her smile. “Yes. They’re not open at night.”

“Then I will see you tomorrow morning.” He gave a bow to both Solus and [FN], and vanished back out into the night.

* * *

After _thoroughly_ enjoying [FN] in their rooms, Solus tugged her back onto her feet. She still had that dazed, half-lidded look she always got after being well-tended, and she didn’t fight as he changed her gown into something more suitable for the evening. By the time he was buttoning the back of her bodice, she had come back to herself, and someone was banging on the door. 

“What?” he called irritably. 

“If thou dost not hurry, we will all be late, and Amadea will be quite cross,” Urianger called from the other side. “The performance beginneth in less than an hour.”

“Performance?” [FN] asked.

Solus nodded. “A surprise. I so rarely take you out, I thought…” Her smile filled him with radiance that reminded him of distant memories, sunlight and warmth and brightness all about. She turned towards the door, but he caught her hand. “Your hair.”

To his surprise, she rushed to her valise, and pulled out a small silver hand-mirror that he did not recognize. He wondered idly where she’d gotten it, but she plucked up a small box and called, “Urianger, can Amadea do my hair in the carriage?”

A few moments quiet murmuring, then Augurelt replied, “Of course.”

By the time they reached the Théâtre Lyrique, the ladies were giggling and whispering to each other while Solus, Magnai, and Urianger followed behind at a sedate pace. “[FN] is… surprisingly comfortable with the whole thing,” Magnai observed.

“What do you mean?” Solus asked. “From what you’ve said, Rynn had no trouble adjusting.”

Magnai chuckled. “Rynn had about forty-five seconds between learning we exist and becoming one of us.”

“And Amadea?” He turned to face the Frenchman. 

“My beloved wife merely chose betwixt one demon and another. And she be Venetian, so I knoweth not what answer thou believeth thy inquiry will produce.” Urianger tilted his head. “I believe thy Nhaama -”

“She’s not my Nhaama,” Solus growled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Amadea glance back at him, contempt evident on her face before she tugged [FN] into the theater. “And your wife is in a temper.”

“More like thou art in a temper,” Urianger grumbled. “Old as sin and still thou art as mercurial as the moon and less intelligent than an ox.”

“Do have pity, Urianger,” Solus replied sarcastically as he pushed his way inside, “I only learned to read ten or so millennia ago.”

Magnai and Urianger exchanged a glance before the doors. “Do you think she is his Nhaama, my friend?”

“Without a doubt, Magnai,” Urianger said. “Why else think’st thou he orbits her like that same inconstant moon?”

* * *

Solus tugged [FN] into the box and placed her into the seat nearest the stage, then settled in beside her. “I do hope you like the performance, my dear. Opera is something of a passion of mine.”

“Oh?” She smiled brightly. “That does seem to be in keeping with your love of music.”

“I _am_ a composer.” Her smile widened, and the look in her eyes would have made him blush, if he were still capable.

“Be not modest, Solus,” Urianger interjected. “He will not tell thee, my lady, but he hath composed a fair few operas himself.”

[FN] sat up a little straighter. “You have?”

He scowled again at Urianger, but Magnai chuckled. “He mostly writes in German now. Italian operas are too boring, and the French are too sexual.”

“Damned right they are,” Amadea interjected with a playful smile for her husband.

“Kyrie eleison,” the priest mumbled under his breath.

“What operas have you written?” [FN] asked, and Solus had planned to demure, but then she took his hand in both of hers, and held it on her lap in quiet affection.

“The last was _Der Freischütz_, and it is probably the most popular,” he answered. “It’s vaguely similar to the story of Faust, but men selling their souls to the devil is a common operatic theme.”

“Especially when you’re involved,” Magnai teased.

[FN] opened her mouth to say something else, but Solus found himself overcome - that had been happening too often of late - and he lifted his hand from her lap and caught the back of her neck, pulling her close for a kiss. Her mouth burned with the heat of her living body, her heartbeat already having inspired in him more composing in the last three months than he’d done in the last decade hidden in Amaurot. He felt her fingers clutch his jacket, pulling him closer, and he let his fangs cut into her tongue so he could drown in her completely.

A sudden sharp cough brought him back to himself. The overture was playing, and [FN]’s pupils were blown so wide they may as well be the starlit skies that had eternally accompanied him. Rynn offered a handkerchief, and he watched as she took it, wiping her own blood from her lips. Then she turned from him, and the spell was broken, leaving them to enjoy _Faust_

But he did not take his hands from her that night. Not through the performance, not in the carriage, not until he was fast asleep after dawn, and he didn’t realize she slipped from his arms to go see Sterling.

* * *

[FN] was seeing _Faust_ again, this time on Sterling’s arm for a matinee performance on their last day in Paris before they took the train to Vienna. The story had enraptured her, and filled her with thoughts that always ended up being pushed aside by that same inner calm that caused her to not think about the way the man looked at her.

She was not sure if Sterling thought her a fool. They danced around the edges of what he would not say - all the things he so obviously wanted from her - and she bit her _own_ tongue against the awful truths it made her realize about herself. But he never opened his mouth and said the words that would end their charade of a friendship. She knew he wanted to take her away from Solus, return to England, and live some quiet life in London off her fortune from the auction. 

It would be a lie to say she was not tempted. 

Sterling scowled as they left the theater. “A bit too on-the-nose if you ask me,” he said.

“I didn’t. I thought the music was lovely.” She said, turning up her nose.

He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders. “I just dislike what happened to Marguerite.”

“Oh?” [FN] tilted her head.

“Being seduced by an agent of the devil, murdering her own child, then dying?” He scoffed and looked at her pointedly. “I don’t want you to die.”

“You think I’m Marguerite,” she whispered.

“Of course you are,” he said, and pulled her closer. “And I will be better than Siébel. I am not a useless boy who can do nothing to protect you.”

She looked up at him for a long moment, and there it was again - a time when he could have kissed her - but he seemed anxious about crossing that bridge. When the moment had finally passed, she glanced toward the horizon. “I should return to the hotel and make sure I am packed. The train leaves just after sunset and Magnai is eager to see his friend.”

Sterling dipped his head in acknowledgement and took her back to the hotel, though he kept his arms around her the whole time. Neither of them noticed Solus watching from the window of their rooms, lingering in the shadows beyond the sunlight.

* * *

Solus decided he wouldn’t say anything about it.

He could pull the truth from her easily, ask a question then taste her, and she would be compelled to tell him, but he was not ready to do that just yet. He had asked the man to take care of her during the day, but knew little of what they got up to. For all he knew, they were merely play-acting at being romantic as a way to protect [FN] from public scrutiny. He had never bothered to take an interest in her daylight hours other than to have a fit when she wasn’t there to dance attendance come sunset. Now he felt as though he did not have the right.

By the time she returned to the room he was ensconced in the bed, feigning sleep. He listened as she carefully laid out what she intended to wear that evening then disrobed and packed everything else in her bags. Then her slight weight pressed into the mattress beside him, and her small hand traced the scars on his back. 

“I know you’re awake, Solus. Care to tell me why you are pouting?” Curse her - her light voice and playful tone. He rolled to face her, and [FN] wrapped herself around him. Though he enjoyed her cycles, she was always more affectionate when they were over, and today was no different. 

Solus tried to be distant and disapproving, but her every touch made him respond despite himself, and finally he sighed. “I am not in a mood to be gentle, and I fear I will hurt you,” he said simply.

“I have learned much of you and yours, Solus,” [FN] said. “I know that you can fix it if you hurt me.”

“Still, I…”

“Solus,” her voice was strong - commanding, even. “I am here to be with _you._ Not some soft, idealized version of you. I love you. Both the man and the monster.” She kissed the soft spot on the curve of his neck, where at the dawn of time his own pulse had thrummed. “I have given you all of myself, and I demand equal return, not half.”

Without a word he pulled the ribbon from her hair and tied her wrists, twisting his fingers through it and holding her arms above her head while he savaged her breasts with his fangs. It was an abrupt beginning, but the one he had dreamed of since that first night in the baths. [FN]’s breath shuddered out of her in shock but her body responded, her nipples hardening while blood oozed from a dozen wounds and slid over her rounded curves, staining the sheets beneath her.

He licked the blood from her areolas and stroked his shaft a few times, making sure he was prepared before hilting himself in without warning. She finally cried out, but he used his fingers still twisted in the ribbon to keep her arms aloft, bracing himself against the headboard with that hand while his other clutched her hip and held her in check for his pleasure.

To the girl’s credit, she did not scream, not even when he purposefully dug his thumbnail into the joint of her hip, breaking the skin and digging into the muscle beneath to intentionally send sharp stabs of pain through her pelvis. [FN] sobbed but did her best to move with him through the pain, and he rewarded her submission with a bite to her neck where he took deep, uncontrolled and unmeasured swallows of her blood - the same blood that was smearing against his chest and filling the room with her scent.

Her orgasm shocked him when it came, cries of “Solus!” mingled with her sobs, his thumb still buried to the first knuckle in her hip. He had not expected or intended her to climax from this, but here she was, obviously enjoying his more monstrous appetites. The understanding that she had not lied when she admitted she loved the monster drove him to his own end, and he twisted her body cruelly beneath him, his mouth still locked on her throat, as he gave himself up to insensibility.

[FN] was panting heavily as he withdrew from her, and he released her and licked his hands clean while he pondered what to do. The possessive jealousy that had overcome him seeing her with Sterling was mostly satisfied, but the idea that she had given herself so completely to something so depraved made him yearn to express that possession more earnestly. 

Lying beside her now, he slipped two of his fingers into her vagina and soaked them in her own juices and those he had left there, letting them mix with the smears of her blood still on his hand. She groaned when he pulled his fingers back out, coated in their mingled pleasure, and he took advantage of her parted lips to shove those fingers into her mouth.

“Can you taste how good we are together, my pet?” Solus purred in her ear. “Do you realize how thoroughly I own you?” [FN] whimpered around his fingers, and he chuckled. “Lick them clean.”

She did, pulling and sucking on his fingers in ways that made him realize he had yet to make her pleasure him with her lips - an oversight he would rectify soon, he decided - but for now he was too pleased with her submission and did not have the time to thoroughly enjoy it before the train. He had other pleasure to attend to first.

* * *

Sterling frowned as he carried Lord Solus and [FN]’s bags to the train. She looked unusually pale, and clung to the Count like he was a life preserver. More than once, as they waited on the platform, he had seen her sway like she would faint, and the vampire had caught her in his arms and steadied her as if he’d expected it.

Worse still was the look of pure malevolence that Solus had given to Sterling when he went to help [FN] into their room. The trip from Paris to Vienna would take about three days on the train, and they would arrive just after sunset on Wednesday. Three days of her in close quarters with an uncontrolled vampire and his clutch, and she already looked pale and faint from lack of blood.

Sterling would have to do something about it before they reached their destination.


	14. Faust [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] chooses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, tags changed again. This fic is darker than I'd originally planned but I feel like the characters need it.

“My family has always been soldiers of one variety or another,” Sterling said to [FN] as she sipped coffee in the café car, and watched the sun burned away the mists coming down from the Alps. “My father served in the first Opium War when I was a boy, and his father had fought against Napoleon.” 

Her eye twitched at the mention of the would-be Emperor, and he laughed. “You certainly have a strong reaction for someone who wasn’t even alive while he was terrorizing Europe.”

[FN] sighed and looked down at her coffee. “It’s always been hard for me to hear other people talk about their families. I barely remember my father’s face. I know nothing about him. Yet so much of... “ she shook her head. “Forgive me, Sterling, I’m becoming maudlin.”

“It’s all right,” he reached out and placed a hand on hers, brushing his thumb gently across her knuckles. Her hands were so delicate, and he thought about lifting them to his lips to kiss them. _’Does that vampire ever do that for you?’_ he wanted to ask, but wouldn’t. _’Does he show you how precious you are beyond the blood and sex and his own vanity?’_

A servant appeared at the end of the table, and she pulled her hand away from him as if it burned her. “Breakfast will be served shortly, Lady Galvus. Are you sure we shouldn’t send a plate up for your husband?”

“No, my Solus does not take breakfast.” [FN] gave the boy a simpering smile. The vampire had her playing his wife, and though he talked of marrying her, no ring yet graced her finger. The disrespect and disregard for her burned Sterling almost as much as the ring _he_ planned to give her, tucked inside his inner coat pocket. 

That was the plan, in the end: convince her she did not have to live this way, she had other options, where she would be loved and adored and protected; kill the Count and as many of his clutch as he could; put the ring on her hand and both of them would present themselves at the Templar office in Vienna. His brothers-in-arms would see them safely back to England, and take care of the rest of the clutch. 

Sterling tried not to sigh at the thought of the life they would have after - a cozy little house in London, a few domestics to take care of things. She could engage in whatever hobbies she desired and take care of their children - with help from a nanny, of course - and he could organize and fund Templar operations on the British Isles with the money she got from the Count. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

The servant returned and placed platters laden with food on the table between them. Sterling watched carefully as [FN] served herself, then shook his head. “You need your strength,” he said quietly, and pointed to the serving dish heaped with meat. “Don’t be shy. I know what you must endure and I will not have you killing yourself for vanity.”

After breakfast, he took her to the small lounge. There wasn’t much to _do_ on the train other than stare out the windows, read, or talk, and he hoped to keep her away from the sleeper cars the clutch had booked until she absolutely had to rest. 

To his surprise, [FN] opened the conversation once they were settled by a large window. “What do you hope to do, when you return to England?”

“Continue to serve you in any way I can,” he replied as she set her handbag on the floor by her feet. It made an unusually loud _thunk_ thanks to the revolver she had hidden within - a secret sign of his affection.

“Even if he turns me into one of them?”

The question shocked Sterling from his lovesick reverie. “What?”

“Come off it, Sterling,” [FN] said softly. “I know you dislike them and what they are, even if you allow him to feed from you. But there is a chance he might turn me into one of them. He did it on accident, apparently, back in China.”

_Hien,_ Sterling thought, then blinked the face away. The Japanese vampire had come to him with an offer - a suggestion - a plan. He had been turned without his consent and in a moment of weakness turned the woman he loved. Now the two of them sought to undo all that had been done to them, but would not take what Hien called the ‘coward’s way’ and face the sun.

They had made a bargain with the Templars.

His mind returned to [FN], and her curious expression. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.”

“If Solus were to make me one of them, on purpose or on accident, what would you do?” She watched him, and he gave the question careful thought.

“I would ask you what you wanted. If you wanted to live, I would remain by your side until I died. Better you feed from me than become a monster. If you wanted to die, I would…” Sterling’s voice faltered. His duty as a Templar was to remove the vampiric threat from the world. But… [FN] would never choose to become one of them. She was his _Marguerite_ \- sweet, young, innocent - only lost in such depravity because of the heartless monster that had claimed her through infernal circumstance. 

Sterling swallowed. “If you wanted to die, I would take you back to England - to my mother’s house - and sit with you in her rose garden and watch the sun rise with you. I would hold you close and tell you how I love you until the end.” Tears threatened his eyes so he looked away and tried to think of something else.

“You love me?” she whispered, and he looked back to see her face so unguarded, confused and despairing. [FN] was heartbreakingly beautiful and he hated to see such sadness on her face.

Summoning up every ounce of his soldier’s courage, Sterling reached out and touched the side of [FN]’s face, then leaned close and pressed his lips to hers. She carried the taste of breakfast and coffee, and the thought he might have this every morning, if only he could get her out of here, stirred his ardor. He brought his other hand up and placed it on the other side of her face, clutching her head as he rained all the kisses he had wanted in Paris on her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her chin, her brow - until every part of that pale face had felt the touch of his lips. “I love you,” he confessed, then released her.

* * *

The sharp pain in his chest woke Solus, but the Templar was too quick. It took a moment for his mind to register that the figure standing over him was no stranger at all, but _Sterling._

He wanted to say, _”I should have known,”_ but the wood was in his heart and he could not move or speak or even turn his head. Only stare blindly in one direction and hope that his death was quick. Which it would probably be, given that his stablemaster turned and approached the large windows across from the bed, and prepared to open them.

“Sterling?” [FN]’s voice from nearby - probably the sitting room their shared with the others. Was she involved in this? Had she let the man in?

His assailant’s hands retracted from the curtains a fraction. “Sterling?” Her voice came again, closer to their bedroom. She opened the door, and Sterling whirled to face her.

“[FN], I…” he began, but she moved further into the room, and stopped as she stared at Solus, prone on the bed with half a damn tree branch protruding from his chest.

“Sterling, what have you done?” she asked quietly. 

“I’m doing it for you!” The man took her by the shoulders and turned with her, putting himself between Solus and [FN]. “You didn’t deserve any of what happened to you, my dear. And you have been so strong, but you shouldn’t have to be anymore.” Solus could do nothing but watch as Sterling pulled her close and kissed her, but he also noticed the way her fist clenched on the handle of her handbag. “I’ll kill him, [FN]. We’ll go to the other Templars in Vienna, and they will take us back to England. Things will go back to the way they should be! You will be happy again - whole again. You will be my Marguerite and I’ll be your Siébel and -”

[FN] turned her back to him and strode toward the low table before the window. “Oh, Sterling…” She set the handbag on the table with a thud, and Solus wondered idly if his lover would be the one to kill him instead, until she spoke again. “I can never be Marguerite.”

“W-why not?” The man seemed confused.

“Marguerite was loved. She had her brother, Siébel, and Marthe. Before them she had a loving family and parents that adored her.” [FN] opened her handbag. “I’ve been cursed since childhood. Love, the way she had it… it’s something I will never understand or deserve.” Her shoulders shook and she took out a handkerchief, pressing it to her eyes. 

Solus wanted to go to her as her sobs filled the bedroom, but the stake made him nothing but an audience for the end of his own life. _What an ignominious end for one as ancient as I,_ he thought idly. _They will kill me and they will leave and live happily ever after and in a century they’ll be just as dead and forgotten as I am._

“What do you mean?” Sterling asked her. “You deserve love, and companionship, and -”

“They loved her chastely,” [FN] said, taking a steadying breath. “They did not demand she return their love or satisfy their desires. That is why I can never be Marguerite. I thought I could have that kind of love, with you.” She stilled her sobs.

“It’s all right,” [FN] said softly. “You have made your desires evident. And I cannot say that I’m even capable of loving someone without demanding things from them. I have never known love that isn’t in _some_ way transactional.”

“Whatever you want,” Sterling stammered. “I’ll do anything. Just let me kill the Count and get you out of here.” Solus watched the man’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “So long as he lives he will never let you go. We have to kill him for you to be free of him.” He took another step closer to her, and all Solus could see now was the back of Sterling’s head.

“That’s what makes this all terribly tragic,” [FN]’s voice said from beyond the stablemaster’s broad shoulders. “There was another character in that Opera - one who did not know love, and yearned for it so desperately they would do anything.”

“What?” Sterling’s voice cracked in confusion, but comprehension flooded Solus and he would have laughed in delirious delight if he wasn’t still pinned by the bloody shard of wood in his heart.

“Don’t you understand, Sterling?” Solus heard her shift and the other man gasped as she spoke again. 

“I’m Faust.” 

The back of Sterling’s head exploded in time with the sharp bang of the gunshot in such close quarters, and his body crumpled to the floor, revealing [FN] holding a revolver he did not recognize, smoke curling from the barrel and her face still and calculating. 

Their eyes met and she lowered the gun, moving to his side. [FN] said nothing as she reached over with her free hand and gripped the stake, pulling it out with a quick jerk and tossing it to the floor while relief and control once again flooded Solus’s form. He went to reach for her, but she ignored him, setting the gun on the bed beside his pillow, then reaching down and opening his trousers with grim determination. 

Solus worried at his lip with his teeth as she pulled him free, stroking him a few times until he was hard. Still silent, she pulled up her skirts and climbed on top of him, taking a moment to get them positioned correctly before he felt her moist heat envelop his cock. He gasped, and the pain in his chest from the quickly-closing wound seemed to add a sharp edge to the pleasure he found in her.

[FN]’s hands came to rest on either side of his head and she leaned over him as she rode him, ignoring the obscenity of doing this with her failed suitor’s corpse right beside them on the floor. Not that Solus objected - if anything, it fueled his ardor, and she didn’t fight him when he lifted his hands again and took her hips, using the strength returning to his limbs to give her what she demanded. 

_”Whatever you want,”_ Sterling had said, but the man had no conception of what she _wanted._ Truth be told, Solus didn’t either, but he recognized now that his desire to please her manifested as permissiveness, not protectiveness. [FN] would never be satisfied with a man who would infantilize her.

The only sounds in the room were the shift of silk and the sounds of their lovemaking, muffled by her skirts, and to his ears it was the sweetest symphony he’d ever heard, until it reached it’s inevitable climax and she gasped into the stillness. Her back arched and her walls contracted around him but he continued relentlessly, lifting his hips off the bed to drive into her until his own orgasm tore a groan from his lips and she collapsed against his chest, his blood and Sterling’s viscera smearing across her cheek and into her hair.

“You chose me,” Solus whispered, and stroked her skin. “You had a _choice_, and you chose to stay with _me.”_

“I did.” [FN] did not attempt to brush aside the significance of what she had done, and he knew from long experience that the first kill was always the hardest. She would dream of Sterling and cry over him.

And Solus would be there for every moment, to love her and comfort her and thank her, because [FN] had the perfect opportunity to kill him and walk away without consequence and go live the life most women only dreamed of - but instead she chose to kill the man who opened the door for her and close it again more tightly.

* * *

“And the manservant attempted to…” the guard asked, rubbing his eyebrow with one finger. 

Solus stiffened beside [FN]. “My wife has been through enough,” he said defensively, and carefully stroked her hair. 

“Your wife…” the guard said slowly. “Yet she was seen by servants fraternizing with the victim in the café car and the lounge. One of the staff even says he saw them kissing.”

_”He_ kissed _me,”_ [FN] said sternly. “And afterwards I went to my rooms to speak with my husband to tell him about it.”

“And you were…” the guard turned to Solus.

“Playing poker with my friends in Lord Magnai’s room. I had no idea my wife was in danger until I heard the shot.” Solus looked down at his [FN], still as a stone, and she brought one hand up to take his. “She defended herself admirably, and I am quite proud of her.”

The guardsman sighed and gave them both a dim look. “Very well. I ask that you hold yourselves available for questioning until we reach Vienna.”

“Of course.” Solus slid an arm around [FN]’s back and led her out of the office and back towards the sitting room where their compatriots waited. He stopped, however, just outside the door, on the little bridge connecting the train’s cars. The wind rushed past them both, and the thunder of the wheels would drown any words he wished to say, but for now, this moment, words were unnecessary. 

Solus bent his head and kissed [FN] gently, reverently, and hoped she understood how much he loved her. He couldn’t say it. Maybe he would never be able to admit such vulnerability. But he hoped she knew all the same. He would find a way to tell her some day.

As soon as they entered the sitting room, Rynn was there, fluttering around [FN] in concern, and Solus released her hand so that she could be surrounded by women and comforted by them for a moment, but he still watched her constantly. He wanted to take her back to bed and hold her through the tears she would certainly have once they were alone, but their friends needed to be sure they were both safe. 

As he approached the sideboard, the two other men were already there, and without a word Magnai offered him a snifter of brandy as the three of them leaned against the wall and watched their wives.

“He actually got as far as getting a stake in you?” his child asked quietly.

Solus sighed. “He did.”

Magnai whistled and topped off his own brandy. “And you only survived because your Nhaama -”

“For the last bloody time,” Solus shouted reflexively, and all other conversation in the room died. “She’s _not_ my Nhaama!” Then he stormed off back to their bedroom, and tried not to think about how close he had come to dying, how far she had to go to save him, and especially not the way she had flinched - more than she ever had, even when she’d killed Sterling inches from their bed - at his shouted declaration.


	15. He's too strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turnabout is fair play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some very minor [ex], small enough I didn't think it worth tagging.

Solus spent the rest of the night and most of the next day tossing and turning, waiting for [FN] to come to bed. He couldn’t shake the image of her expression - eyes snapped shut, her face turning away from him towards Rynn so quickly it seemed knocked aside by an unseen blow - and it made him feel the prat. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, but she simply couldn’t be his Nhaama. The mathematical probability didn’t bear out.

It was mid-afternoon - a few hours before sunset, when he would normally still be asleep - when the door to their compartment opened and [FN] crept in. She was quiet, he’d give her that. If he had been a mortal man with mortal hearing he would not have noticed her. She obviously did not want to be discovered, so he feigned sleep and watched her from beneath his eyelashes.

[FN] picked her way across the room to her bags, and opened them silently, selecting a gown for the next day and laying it out on the dresser until her fingers brushed the handle of the silver hand mirror. Abruptly, her whole body shook with a wracking sob, but he did not hear a sound - a testament to the truth of her childhood if her body could bend like that with the force of it, and remain silent - and soon the room filled with the scent of her tears. 

Embracing his predatory nature, Solus slipped from the bed in silence her mortal form could not hope to match. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his lips to her temple. This close, he could see that wherever [FN] had been, she hadn’t slept, as the rings beneath her eyes had become so dark to rival bruises.

“Solus,” she whispered.

“You’re coming to bed,” he replied. “You haven’t slept since what - Paris? It’s been nearly two days.” He lifted her gently from the ground and pulled her beneath the sheets. 

“Solus…” she said again, her voice more of a whimper.

“Be angry at me if you like,” he said somberly as he unbuttoned her bodice with one hand while the other held her firmly trapped. “But you will feel better for some rest, and I will feel better knowing you have rested.” Once the bodice was open, he pulled it off of her in a single quick motion that left white scratches down his lover’s arms from where the beading had scraped her. A quick flex of his hands between her breasts and the busk of her corset popped apart, leaving her in nothing but her chemise and skirts.

He finished undressing her in silence, and though she did not fight him, she did not help him either, not even when he unlaced the black pointed-toe boots on her feet. When they revealed her mismatched stockings he smiled slightly. How was it that things that would irritate him in anyone else only endeared her to him further?

Once he had her sorted he climbed back into the bed, pulling her into his arms and tugging the blankets up around him both. “Talk to me,” he said simply.

“There’s nothing to say,” she replied. 

“Then sleep.” Another command. Why did he always feel the need to give her so many?

“I can’t,” [FN] mumbled. “I tried, but every time, I…” her voice trailed off and tears gathered in her eyes again.

Solus reached up and stroked her hair. “Do you want me to make you sleep? It will be dreamless.” 

The tears spilled over, and she nodded. “Yes.”

He slid his hand up and caught her chin, tilting her head back until her tender pulse - the maddening beat that had driven all sense from him long ago - thrummed before him. “Tell me your thoughts,” he whispered, a command only she could hear, then sank his teeth into this most sinful of fruit.

“I wish I could hate you,” [FN] said as her tears slid down her cheeks and into his hair. “I want to despise you, and myself. I want so desperately to have the moral high ground here but I murdered him. I _murdered_ my friend, and it wasn’t even… He wasn’t even threatening _me.”_ A harder sob shuddered out of her and Solus tightened his grip, rolling her onto her back and pinning her beneath him as he fed. They both knew the words she was saying were the truth, even if they hurt her, but it would help her healing to recognize and deal with these feelings now rather than letting them simmer. “I killed him because I was angry. I love you, and he wanted to hurt you - he had hurt you, even if I knew you could heal from it - and all I wanted to do was hurt him back twice as much. I couldn’t countenance you being hurt by anyone but me.” 

[FN]’s words settled along Solus’s spine, soothing his own turmoil and spurring his body to seek hers, but he was steadfast. While he wanted to bury himself inside her, to break her resistance with an endless chain of orgasms, he knew that would not help her right now. That would wait for Greece, and what he planned to give her there. For now, for tonight, she needed to give voice to her conflicting emotions and the dreamless sleep of severe blood loss.

“God above, Solus… at least you had a better reason than that for all the people you’ve killed - food or self-preservation. But I killed him purely because he wanted to harm you, and you are _mine.”_ Her grip on him was weakening, but he could smell her arousal and knew she wanted it just as much as he did. Resisting her was exquisite torture.

“Worse, his body wasn’t even cold, the gun was still smoking, and I just tossed all sense to the side and fucked you like a dockside whore you won in a bar fight, without a care for the fact that a good Christian man had died to defend me. No, I proved that everything she ever said was right about me, I am cursed, I am sinful, I am -” He squeezed her tightly, pressing his shaft against her thigh and growling into the wound at her throat. Her blood was in him, filling him from end to end, and it felt like she was touching him all over from within, her lips pressed just beneath his skin and driving him with need. 

He wanted her - he wanted her so badly it drove him mad, but her breath stuttered and he knew they were both at the edge - her of sleep and he of madness - so he pulled his teeth from her and licked the wound closed as her trembling breaths eased into a steady rhythm and she slipped at last into her much needed unconsciousness. 

It only took a few quick strokes with one hand for him to find completion, and he spent himself across her stomach, possessively pleased to have marked her in such a vulgar fashion, then he let himself slip back into sleep beside her.

* * *

[FN] awoke to Solus carefully dressing her again. “H-how long did I sleep?” she asked.

“All night and into the next day - we will pull into Vienna in about twenty minutes, and must be prepared in case the constables wish to speak to us before we vanish into the city proper.” He said, pulling her to her feet now that he’d tied her boots. “Deep breath,” he said.

She did, and he pulled her corset around her and snapped it in place with lightning quick speed. “Go ahead and adjust your breasts, let me pick a different dress for you.”

“W-why?” she asked, reaching into the corset to ensure she was positioned comfortably.

“Because you are beautiful, and I am tired of it being hidden beneath high-necked fabrics in somber colors,” He scowled at the suitcase. “Didn’t you get anything… I don’t know… bright, in Paris?”

She blushed. “Not really.” 

Solus sighed in exasperation. “You’ll amend that on the return trip, then. You are to be my wife and you will dress in a style befitting my vanity.” 

“If you’d like, I could wear the red?”

“Red?” His head jerked up and he turned back to her.

“Red,” she repeated, opening her trunk and pulling out a gown in a deep, painful crimson like a pool of blood.

He licked his lips. “You should get more like that.”

The constables proved to be less of an obstacle than [FN] expected, content to let the matter rest when two noblemen and a priest were more than happy to vouch for her good character, and Sterling’s body was unceremoniously carted away to be sent back to his family in England. The others all began speaking of their plans in the city, and to her surprise, Solus took her hand and pulled her into the circle of their conversation, wrapping his arms about her tightly.

“I fear I shall need to eat,” Solus said. “With Sterling’s loss, I have been a bit greedy.” He placed a kiss on top of [FN]’s head. “Dearest, would you mind if I left you in the care of these two young idiots while I take their wives about town?”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Don’t you all need to…” Her hand reflexively went to the mark on her throat, quickly becoming a scar with how often Solus reopened it.

Urianger placed a hand over his mouth and chuckled, and Amadea coughed. “Solus, might I steal your [FN] for a few moments to… aah… _elucidate?”_ His arms unwound themselves from the mortal, and Amadea took her arm and led her away from the group. 

As soon as they were out of earshot Magnai began to laugh - huge, gulping cackles while Rynn snickered behind her hand. “I cannot believe… Oh, Mother Moon I am never going to be able to look her in the eyes again.” 

“At least thou art not of a caste that usually hath a vow of _celibacy.”_ Urianger put a hand on Magnai’s shoulder, laughing just as hard. “Solus, I cannot believe thou didst not even explain the nature of such acts for our kind.”

“It’s not like I had opportunity to demonstrate,” he mumbled self-consciously, and glanced to where Amadea and [FN] were pressed with their heads together. She’d lost too much blood to blush, but he could see the other signs that she would have been - her hands pressed against her cheeks, and those sweet surreptitious glances in his direction.

“Gods, look at him,” Magnai’s laughs became high-pitched giggles. “He’s literally _mooning_ over her.” He and Urianger near collapsed into laughter together. “We told him. We warned him he was going to fall hard, and now look at him.” 

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Solus scowled. “Laugh it up all you like. You’ll eat those words when I tire of her in a few decades. She’s merely a temporary distraction, a balm to my boredom.”

“Thou canst lie to thy [FN], and to thyself, and to our wives, Solus - but thou cannot lie to us. And if thou think’st we are wrong, what do you think Elidibus’s reaction will be to the woman?” Urianger straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “She is thy Nhaama, for good or for ill. But if thou art not ready to admit it, we will say no more on the matter for now.”

Solus wanted to argue, but Amadea and [FN] were coming back, and he suddenly - viscerally - remembered the way she’d flinched at his outburst, and held his tongue.

[FN] pressed a kiss against his cheek, and fluttered her eyelashes demurely. “You and I must talk, later. But for now you should go eat.”

He nodded and ran a hand down her back, before allowing Rynn and Amadea to drag him away.

“So,” Magnai said, throwing an arm around [FN]’s shoulder and grinning mischievously. 

“So,” Urianger repeated, crossing his hands behind his back and waggling his eyebrows.

“S-so?” [FN] squeaked. While the prospect hadn’t worried her at first, she just realized she’d been left in the care of two of those creatures, and these did not bear her the love or attachment that Solus did, nor did they offer her the comfort of being the same sex, and thus seeming to be less threatening.

Magnai and Urianger exchanged a glance. “We were thinking of terrorizing Solus. You in?” the Mongolian asked.

[FN] thought about how stressful the last few days had been, and the week before besides. She thought about the fact that Solus always seemed to have the upper hand, and if they were to have a real relationship, she must find some way to turn the tables. And if anyone could help, it was these two men, six centuries her senior. “How?”

* * *

[FN] clung to Urianger, her lip savagely bitten to hide the gasps and shrieks as they hopped from rooftop to rooftop, moving at Magnai’s signals. Oronir was quietly tracking Solus, and every time he found a potential victim, the Mongolian would give the signal, and [FN] would cry out for her dearest. Immediately after, they would duck into an alleyway or scamper off as quickly as possible, interrupting Solus’s hunt and leaving him frustrated.

After the fifth time - when he let out a frustrated expletive on not being able to find her, or even proof she was nearby, the French priest carried her across the Danube. As they landed on a darkened side street, he set her down and the three of them had a good laugh.

“How long do you think we have?” [FN] asked. 

“Ten or so minutes,” Magnai said, glancing back across the river. “He’s a bit maddened so we should give him a break.”

“Only for a few moments,” Urianger chuckled, one hand on [FN]’s shoulder. “I fear-” A large sword pierced Urianger’s shoulder, missing [FN] by a few inches. 

_”Urianger!”_ Magnai and [FN] cried out in unison, running towards him, but a strong hand grabbed [FN] and pulled her back. 

“I would run, girl,” a small woman with pale hair and glasses perched precariously on her nose said, reaching for the sword’s hilt and pulling it free, tearing through the Frenchman’s collarbone. “These men aren’t _men.”_ Her voice was thick with an accent [FN] couldn’t place.

_”Salope!”_ Urianger said, grabbing the limb and holding it close. Magnai reached into his jacket and pulled out a dagger, moving to position himself between the woman and his friend.

“Urianger!” [FN] ducked past them both and reached for him. “Are you alright? What can I?”

His eyes were wild and unhinged, and when [FN] reached to help him hold his arm in place he caught her arm and bit her wrist. She screamed as his flesh began to knit together once fueled with her blood, but he would not let her go, no matter how she tried to flee.

“You should have -” The woman began, but Magnai intervened, catching her just under the chin with his dagger. 

“I don’t want to have to tear you apart, woman, but I will if you do not leave us be.” Magnai’s voice was hard, but his eyes reached-glass edged panic when Solus appeared at the end of the alleyway and took in the tableau. 

“Solus,” [FN] called. “He’s too strong, I -”

The woman’s eyes widened at her words, but [FN] had little time to react. Solus ripped Urianger off of her and threw him down the alleyway like brushing dust from his jacket. In the same motion he turned and caught her wrist himself, gently licking the wound closed.

“Magnai,” he said, not taking his eyes off [FN]. “Care to explain?”

“Wait, you’re _Magnai?”_ the woman said, but they ignored her.

“This woman attacked Urianger, and told [FN] to run. When [FN] went to check on Urianger, he was too maddened by the injury to realize what he was doing and bit her.” Magnai lowered his dagger to her throat. “Her heart doesn’t beat, so she’s one of us, but…”

“I’m Sumire,” she said. “Sidurgu’s Nhaama. I didn’t know she was…” Her brow wrinkled. “Magnai, is the Terror of the Black Forest _cuddling_ that mortal?”

Solus sheepishly released [FN] from his arms, but did not let go of her hand. “She’s my pet. I’d asked Urianger and Magnai to look after her while I hunted.”

“Then why were they running with her across the city? Why did she keep screaming?” Sumire pushed her glasses up her nose.

Solus closed his eyes for a moment, then reached up and smacked the back of Magnai’s head. “You’re lucky I found someone on my way over here, or I’d have probably killed one of you - especially once I scented her blood.” He turned his attention back to [FN]. “Are you all right?”

She nodded meekly. “Just… afraid.”

Giving Sumire a dark look, Solus pulled [FN] back into his arms and clicked his tongue. “Where is your Sidurgu, then, if you’re out here?”

“Waiting for me at the hotel. He’s been polishing his weapons in preparation for seeing Magnai again,” she grumbled. 

Solus glanced at Magnai. “Get Urianger. I’ve secured rooms for us all at the White Rose. Amadea will have fed by now and she can tend to him.” He eyed Sumire. “You will come with us until I am sure [FN] is safe and tended to, then you and I will go have a word with Sidurgu. You’re what, less than a month turned?”

Sumire nodded. “Three weeks.” 

“Idiot, letting you out to do as you please. He’s lucky you’re not dead.” Solus grumbled, and nodded when he saw Urianger leaning on Magnai, heading towards them. He finally released [FN]. “Come, the hotel is this way.”

He led the small party down the narrow side streets, and [FN] fell into step beside Sumire.

“So…” Sumire said, looking at her. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” [FN] said. “You?”

“Twenty,” she grinned. “But you must tell me. How did a nineteen-year-old British girl become the Nhaama of the great Emet-Selch? Why hasn’t he turned you?”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” [FN] said anxiously. “Solus has made it _very_ clear - repeatedly. I am not his Nhaama.”

For a reason he couldn’t name, Solus suddenly wanted to vomit.


	16. Valle di Pianti [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus comforts [FN].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opera referenced in this chapter is my favorite, _[Aida.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aida)_

The two Mongolians were in the bar next door to the Hotel Solus had booked, the White Rose, drinking obnoxiously and bragging about their Nhaamas. 

“I met Sumire when she was chopping down a tree with an axe as big as she is.”

“I met Rynn when she was _robbing a locomotive.”_

“Well, Surmire hunted murderers for sport.”

“Rynn hunts whatever she likes. Usually well-guarded, wealthy men, not murderers where no one would care if they died.”

Solus rubbed his head. “Zodiark, they’re going to be about this all night, aren’t they?”

Urianger nodded. “At least we find them comparing their partners this time.”

Amadea nodded. “Last time they were comparing their -”

“I really don’t want to hear this.” Solus grumbled.

“- weapons,” the Venetian said, giving him a dry look. “Really, Solus, get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Like you have room to speak to me about that.” He countered.

“Pray, Solus, leave my wife out of thy megrims.”

“You’re the one who bit [FN]. You’re lucky all you are getting is _megrims._ Otherwise Magnai over there would be taking his sword to Amadea’s pretty little throat.” It was a vicious comment, but Solus had been feeling vicious most of the night. [FN] had already lost too much blood, and desperately needed to rest and eat and recuperate, not just from the injuries he had inflicted on her, but the strain of Sterling’s passing. 

Amadea blinked once at the implication. “It’s a good thing Sterling didn’t finish what he started, or Magnai’s sword would be at [FN]’s throat, not mine.”

“I’ve told you, she’s not my -”

“Save it.” A sharp unkindness entered the woman’s face. “You know that of anyone here, _I_ can see the truth. I’ve known you for three hundred years, Solus, and every time I’ve seen you, your greatest desire has been one thing - companionship - but it never mattered _who._ Magnai was just as good as Y’shtola, who was just as good as Urianger, who was just as good as Elidibus. It never mattered, so long as there was an audience to the great tragic opera you have made of your millenia.” She drank her wine in a single gulp, shoving the glass at Urianger. “But now - for the first time in all the years I’ve known you - that great desire has changed. You want _her_. You are _obsessed_ with her. But I have seen that sea change in a man’s desires before. With Magnai, once he found Rynn.”

Solus opened his mouth to argue, but she hissed. “Lies are unbecoming in one so ancient, so save your breath and try to come up with a way to convince her to be content with only half your heart. That will be the harder sell. Because you and I both know Sterling would never have gotten as far as he did if she really _believed_ you loved her.”

“One can love someone who isn’t their soulmate,” Solus argued, but it sounded hollow and petulant, even to his own ears.

“Not you, Solus. We both know that. Your narcissism would allow for nothing else.” She turned to Urianger. “And _you!_ You sank your fangs into another woman! Don’t think I've forgotten that.”

“Beloved,” the Frenchman began, “I -”

“No. You’re going to make this up to me. Upstairs. Now.”

“It’s barely two,” he wheedled, but she was too incensed to hear it.

“You will make it up to me, then we will have to find another priest to hear _your_ confession.” Solus was momentarily glad that her attention had been torn from him. Urianger’s short, mindless, arguable infidelity with [FN] would probably be much more scandalous in their marriage than his own.

His _own._ Well, he hadn’t married her yet. But another man had kissed her, and yet another had bitten her - _tasted_ her - and suddenly he wanted to drag Urianger back out into the street and beat him bloody.

“Don’t.” Rynn’s hand was on his shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re not upstairs with her.”

“She needs her rest,” he offered lamely.

Rynn snorted. “Idiot. She needs _you._ Your presence will convince her of your devotion far more than violence.”

“They’re going to be at this all night anyway,” he said, jerking his chin toward Magnai and Sidurgu, before heading up the stairs.

* * *

Solus pressed the door to their rooms shut behind him and stalked silently over to the bed. The curtains were closed, and he pulled one open to find [FN] curled into a ball, crying silently, her hands pressed over her face. He felt his jaw twitch and undressed before climbing in beside her and wrapping his arms around her.

“Solus,” she began, but got no further as he claimed her mouth with his own. He refused to let her go to breathe until he felt her small fists batter his chest, and then he moved his lips to her jaw, then her ear.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, her tone accusatory. “You were so cold to me when you sent me up here, now you’re…”

“I was worried for your safety, and making sure Sumire wasn’t going to attack anyone else in our band. Now that I have spoken with her husband and had words with Urianger and Amadea, I have come to deal with _you.”_ He lifted her arm and looked at the wrist the priest had bitten. “Sterling kissed you, and worse, another man has had his teeth in your skin.” Solus swallowed, finally allowing him to feel the possessiveness. “Urianger _tasted_ you, [FN]. That was only supposed to be mine.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face away. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”

“Why would I kill you?” he asked.

“You said that if you had reason to suspect I had betrayed you, you would kill me.” 

“And you’re… what… not even going to fight for your life?” He sneered. “If you don’t value it why should I?”

“You shouldn’t,” she said softly. “It would be easier that way.”

“What?” He saw the way all the emotions bled out of her face, and he took her hand in his lap. “Why would it be easier?”

“Because I’m not your Nhaama, and one day you _will_ meet her, and losing you to her will kill me.”

“I told you, the chance of anyone being my Nhaama is a statistical improbability, she’s -”

[FN] shook her head. “No, you’ll meet her someday. You have to. The only thing that sounds worse to me than losing you to her is the idea that you’ll never find her.”

“You’re an idiot,” he said. “What about _you?”_

“What _about_ me?” she argued. “It’s not like I matter. I’m mortal. You’ll probably meet her long after I die.” [FN] stared up at the tapestry over the bed. “That would make my life worthwhile. I can love you and spend time with you and then I will die but I will have eased your loneliness for a while, and maybe a decade or so after you’ve forgotten me, after _everyone_ has forgotten me, you’ll meet her and it will be perfect and I won’t matter.” 

Tears were rolling out of her eyes as he stared at her, every part of Solus locking up as his mind scrambled to find some purchase in the midst of this melancholy that gripped her.

“But that’s how I want it. If I don’t matter, then nothing about me mattered. My family, my stepmother, the auction, murdering Sterling - none of it matters at all.” Her eyes were unseeing as she gazed into the distance.

“All of it matters, because it is all part of _you.”_ The words fell out of him before he realized, and then it was a flow, a torrent, tearing its way up and out, burning the same way her blood still sang in his veins from when he nearly drank her dry on the train. “I love you, [FN]. From the first moment I saw you on that stage in Morgan’s auction house. I’m composing again. I hadn’t for years, there was nothing for me to write about, no joy for me to summon, nothing, and then there was you and for the first time in a long time I have actually cared if I would wake to see tomorrow.” He lifted her from the bed and pulled her into his lap, cradling her close. “We of the First Brood are the closest thing to a true historical record of this world. I have been here since the beginning, and I had planned on seeing it to the end, but I will not do it without you.”

She looked up at him. “You said I’m not your Nhaama.”

“You’re not.” Amadea’s vicious laugh cut through his mind, but he brushed it aside. “As I’ve said, she’s dead, if she ever existed at all. I’m not convinced the entire concept of soulmates isn’t some conceit dreamed up by possessive posturers like Magnai and lonely virgins like Elidibus and Urianger.”

[FN] laughed quietly. “I have it on good authority that Urianger is most certainly _not_ a virgin.”

Solus snorted. “Not _now._ He certainly was when he found Amadea, I know that much. He used to go on and on about his physical purity and his vows of celibacy. Then the first time he finds a woman willing to have him he marries her and declares they’re soulmates and prowls around her like a cat in heat.”

She laid her head on his chest and glanced aside. “Amadea said that between your kind… what Urianger did might as well have been sleeping with me.”

“Sort of,” Solus mumbled. “What exactly did she say?”

“That when two of you pair up, only one seeks blood outside the relationship, the other feeds solely from their partner. That it’s an extension of their fidelity, and much more important than sexual monogamy.” Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap.

“Basically, yes, though there is some nuance to it - normally an exception is made for situations like the one Urianger found himself in tonight. For us… think of blood like candles. If we only need a little light, enough to keep ourselves functioning, a single candle can last us a week or two without problem.” He shifted her closer to his chest, unable to resist the urge to bury his face in her hair while he spoke. “The more we need to do - for example, quickly healing a major wound - the faster we go through candles. Urianger went through three or four candles in a few moments, and needed more. He was desperate, and you were there. It would have been an exception, except…” 

“Except…?” [FN] prompted.

“Except I have made it very clear that you are _mine._ You are not just a random mortal woman walking the street - you are claimed. It makes it more akin to him having fed from Rynn than a stranger. Feeding from Rynn would, in fact, be a violation, and a deep betrayal.” He grumbled. “People who are claimed in the manner you are do not normally live as long as you have, so the question has never really come up.”

“What do you mean ‘do not normally live as long as you have’?” 

Solus closed his eyes. “Either the one who has claimed you inadvertently kills you, or they turn you. That’s what happened to Y’shtola, when Magnai tried to claim her. She fled him as long as she could, but he caught her and nearly killed her. So I turned her, because I did not wish for him to have such guilt on his conscience.”

“How long did she last?” she asked quietly, laying her head on his shoulder. 

“Seven months.”

“And I’ve lasted a little over three so far.”

“Yes.”

“How long do you think I’ll last?” She placed her hand on his chest, a gesture as pointless and symbolic as the calcified heart beneath it.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I can no more stay away from you than I can let you go. So for now -” An electric jolt shot along his spine as he suddenly felt her hot, wet tongue pressed against his throat, where his long-stilled artery rested just beneath the skin. An involuntary groan filled the space within the bed curtains.

“Don’t think I have forgotten what you said,” [FN] hissed into his ear. “That you want to be the only one _I_ feed from. I’m not sure I completely understand the nuance yet, but I think I’m starting to.”

Solus suddenly felt trapped, and it only worsened when she pulled her head away and turned to straddle him, her hand on his chest pushing him down to the bed. He could have fought her - he certainly had the strength - but in the dim light he could see that [FN] from his baths, kneeling over him in near-transparent silk, her hair unbound and tumbling past her shoulder. 

He was hard in an instant at the sight, and he knew she could feel it because she moved her hips over him, rubbing his shaft along her slit until she was gasping and dripping with desire. “[FN],” he growled, but she shook her head.

“You told me you’re composing again. Tell me about it.” 

“Not when I’m about to have you,” he reached for her hips.

“No,” she said, pulling further away, denying him his yearnings. “I am the one fucking you, not the other way around. You will give me what I want or I’ll satisfy myself and leave you out of it.”

Pushing himself up on his elbow, Solus reached for her. “Liar,” he caught [FN] before she could get away. “Your body was made for mine.” He pulled her close to him but she caught herself, pushing away just enough to keep him from entering her.

“And the music you’re writing was made for _me,”_ she countered. “I want what’s mine, Solus, and I’ll give you what’s _yours.”_

She was close, so close to him, and the scent of her hair, her skin, her arousal mingled with the heat rolling off her in waves and the memory of her tongue scorching his neck was too much. He couldn’t deny [FN]. “It’s an opera,” he gasped out, and whimpered as she slid herself down onto him while he collapsed back onto the bed in defeat. 

“And?” she said, bracing herself against his chest and moving her hips.

_Zodiark,_ he thought, _I’m doomed._ “And it’s in Italian.” He gasped as another swirl of her hips caused the tip of his cock to brush her cervix. He loved the way her body tightened when he reached that deep inside her. “German Operas are for Fairy tales. French Operas are for Lust. Italian Operas are for Love.”

“So it’s an opera about Lo~ove,” her voice twisted as her hips moved again. She took one of his hands and moved it toward her body, to her breast, and he almost sobbed at the press of her hard nipple against his palm. “Tell me more, Solus.”

“It’s set in Ancient Egypt,” [FN] left his hand at her breast and took his other, pressing his palm against her cheek, letting his long fingers splay in her hair as he spoke. “An older man, a-a-” her hips bucked and he gasped - “a general of the Pharaoh’s armies. And a young girl, a slave in the Pharaoh’s household.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her hands sliding down her body, one to brace herself against his chest, the other sliding between them to her clitoris. “A slave?”

Solus whimpered again when he felt her body clench as she began pleasuring herself in front of him. He wondered if she realized he could see everything she was doing in this darkness. “No,” he breathed. “She is a princess, but keeping it a secret because her kingdom is at war with Egypt.” Everything she was doing was torture - the most delicious torture - giving him such intense pleasure but forcing him to push it aside to tell her about his work. 

[FN] rode him mercilessly, giving herself to the pleasure while she asked, “And, what ha-ha-ha~appens?”

“I-” he moaned as she ground her hips down against him, and her nails dug into his chest for purchase. “I haven’t decided. Tell me what ending you would have,” he begged. “Anything.”

She was lost in her pleasure at that point, her face twisted in a rough sneer as she panted and fucked him in the most beautiful and obscene tableau he had seen in all his two hundred millenia. Solus’s own orgasm began clawing its way toward him, but he was pushed over the edge when he felt a sharp lance of pain and found her teeth sinking into the heel of his palm that had been pressed against her cheek a moment before.

He could feel her cries in the vibration of her lips and teeth in the hand that was muffling them, but he had no convenient hand of his own and shouted her name into their private space within the bed curtains until his throat was raw. 

His mind was still scattered and distant when she collapsed against his chest, but he reflexively wrapped his arms around her and held her close, savoring the way the thunderous rhythm of her heart shook him to the core.

After her heart had slowed to a more measured pace, and her breathing came at regular intervals, [FN] asked, “What would you have done if I had left with Sterling, rather than killing him?”

“If I were still alive?” he asked. “I’d have hunted you both until I’d killed him and reclaimed you. Either I am dead or we are together. There is no other option.” Solus paused a few moments. “What would you have done if he had already killed me when you came into the bedroom?”

[FN] didn’t hesitate. “I would have shot myself. It’s the same for me.”

He kissed her in the darkness, “So what ending would you have, my dear?”

“Let them die together, then,” she whispered. “In each others arms, having chosen death rather than separation.” 

_”O terra, addio,_ then,” he whispered as her eyes fluttered shut.

She nodded. “Sing it for me, Solus.”

Her words were already slurring with exhaustion, but he obliged, his singing voice a soft tenor as [FN], the only mote of sunlight left to him, fell asleep in his arms.

_“O terra, addio; addio, valle di pianti...  
Sogno di gaudio che in dolor svanì.  
A noi si schiude il ciel e l'alme erranti  
Volano al raggio dell'interno dì.”_


	17. The First Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] goes to church, Solus runs an errand, and Thancred tells Rinor a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another world building chapter before we move on to Greece, hope you like!

[FN] descended the stairs into the main lobby of the hotel at sunset, Solus a few steps behind her. He had said nothing when since she had woken, but his gentle touches and dutiful attendance told her he was also thinking of the confessions they had made the night before.

To her surprise, Amadea and Urianger were in the lobby, preparing to depart for the evening. She glanced once at Solus, to ensure he did not object, then approached the pair. “Where are you off to?”

Amadea eyed at Solus, then [FN], and her face broke into a wide smile. “Urianger and I are going to confession, then the midnight mass afterward at St. Stephen’s.” She glanced at her husband, then back to [FN], and the girl recognized the echo of her own action with Solus. “Would you like to join us?”

She blinked. “I wouldn’t want to impose. I’ve never been to a Catholic service before.”

“Then thou shouldst definitely join us,” Urianger said, glancing anxiously at Solus, while Amadea rolled her eyes. “The True Faith calls all of us home, most especially those children that have never felt the gentle hand of Christ.”

Solus sighed heavily. “You should go with them,” he said. “Get it out of the way. Now that they know you’ve never listened to an old lecher babble in Latin for the better part of an hour Urianger will never let it go.” He kissed her cheek. “I have an errand to run anyway. Besides, who knows, maybe you’ll feel the call to convert.”

[FN] smirked and twisted her fingers in the chain of her locket, smiling up at him. “I’m surprised you have never felt the call to religion, Solus.”

“There is but one altar at which I would worship, my love,” he said, kissing her forehead, “but I fear our friends would not appreciate it. Go on. I would tell you to have a good time but it’s high mass, not a bacchanalia.”

“As if I’d enjoy a bacchanalia,” she countered.

“My darling,” he said, stepping away, “We both know you would be the hostess.” Then he turned to the Augurelts. “Do see that she has a solid supper before you return her?”

“Of course,” Amadea said, putting an arm around the only mortal in their midst. “Come, let’s be off.”

The cathedral dominated the neighborhood, it’s tall spire visible long before [FN] saw the gothic buttresses and beautifully tiled roof. Even at this late hour, people clustered around the entrances, and she glanced nervously at her companions.

“Oh, I had nearly forgotten,” Urianger said, turning to her. “Hast thou been christened?”

“Yes,” [FN] replied, “As a child.”

“Then that is well,” he said, pushing open the door to the cathedral and holding it so that she and Amadea could enter. 

The Venetian took up the conversation as they came in, pulling a veil over her own head, and placing another over [FN]’s. “Sorry, rules are rules, ladies must be veiled in the church. And don’t worry. You should have seen the fight that ensued when Urianger learned your Solus was not baptized.”

“He isn’t?”

“Wasn’t. Urianger _is_ still a priest, though he holds no clerical offices officially. He blessed a lake while Solus was swimming in it and then they got into a fistfight on the shore.” She giggled. “It’s a good thing we are not harmed by religious paraphernalia or my dear husband would be in a world of trouble.” They both glanced at the man in question, who was speaking in a low voice to another priest.

“What’s he doing?” [FN] asked.

“Saying hello, asking about the libraries, and probably making arrangements for confession. Adultery is a sin, regardless of circumstance,” Amadea said.

“I-I’m sorry,” [FN] began, “I didn’t know he was going to -”

“Oh, hush, love, hush,” Amadea said. “I know you had no way to control that situation. I’m not even really angry at him. But it’s true of all men. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. So I must be properly harsh on him now so he doesn’t think I might be merciful if he were to actually stray in the future.”

“You’re not angry with him?”

Amadea shook her head. “Urianger is my everything. Don’t tell him, but I would have forgiven him, even if it was completely intentional. I…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I love him more than anything, and I simply will not continue without him by my side. That’s how I knew he spoke the truth when he called me his Nhaama.”

[FN] swallowed. “Is that all it takes - being unwilling to live without each other?”

“No, but it is most of it.” A ghost of a smile passed Amadea’s lips. “You must still choose each other, even when it hurts. And it will. I promise you that.” She tucked a piece of [FN]’s hair beneath the veil. “Don’t forget - you shot a man who offered you the life you’d always wanted, because he threatened Solus. You had _everything_ in the palm of your hand, and you chose him. You have more than proven your devotion. It’s his turn.”

“What are you doing here?”

The voice surprised [FN] and Amadea, and they turned to see Sumire her eyebrows raised beneath a black lace veil. “Sid didn’t tell me you were Catholics.”

“Urianger is a priest,” Amadea explained. “And I am Venetian. What’s your excuse?”

Though the words seemed hostile, [FN] realized the two women were pleased to see each other. Sumire tapped her chest. “I’m a good Bavarian girl. From Schwangau.”

“Oh, I loved Bavaria. We went five or six years ago. Is that where Sidurgu found you?”

She nodded. “I was caught on the Marienbrücke when a blizzard hit. I thought I was going to die. But then he came out of the endless white and carried me down the mountain.” The girl blushed and pressed a hand to her cheek. “He was apparently on his way south, heading to his homeland for something, but wanted to see the Alps.”

“He was searching for thee, most like,” Urianger said, approaching them. “Magnai used to go on long, listless detours to obscure places, hoping he would find his Rynn.”

“You’ve known Magnai long?” she asked.

“Aye,” he nodded, and motioned for them to follow him. “We were made within a few decades of each other - he by Solus, and I by Elidibus. We were mostly raised together, in that sense, as Solus was never the most attentive of sires, and mine always seems to be cleaning up his messes.” 

They stopped at a pew and Amadea winked at [FN]. “I suppose you have that to look forward to, then.”

* * *

“I’ve finished searching the house,” Rinor said, coming up beside Thancred and flopping into his lap. “Nothing we didn’t expect. The usual crucifix in the cistern trick for the water, but nothing that would actually bother the old man.”

Thancred’s arms reflexively went about his lover’s waist, pulling him closer. “So what do you think they were doing?”

“Most like? Getting the layout. If they plan to go after him knowing every twist and turn of Amaurot would be beneficial.” Rinor threaded his fingers through Thancred’s and laid his head back against his shoulder. “You think they’ll actually try it?”

“Oh, almost certainly. But we’ll have left long before they make the attempt. They’ll wait for him to come back, at least, and probably settle in and lower his guard before they strike.”

Rinor’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’ll manage it?”

The older man snorted. _”Hardly._ You don’t go after one of the First Brood lightly. They haven’t lived as long as they have by being easy prey. The only way they will kill him is if he allows it.”

The younger man relaxed a little and wiggled until he was comfortable. “I’ve heard you refer to him as that before - ‘one of the First Brood.’ What does it mean?”

“It means he was one of the first Vampires ever made,” Thancred said.

“How old is he? And do you know what made them?” 

Thancred paused a few moments, but he could not resist the urge to indulge his beloved’s curiosity. “I will tell you the tale as I was told - but you cannot repeat it to anyone save my successor as leader of this pack, understand?”

He nodded, and Thancred closed his eyes and kissed the back of his head before he spoke.

> Long ago, the earth and the moon were not separate, but one and whole. They were lovers - the first soulmates - bound up together in each others arms, and they were Hydaelyn, the Mother, and Zodiark, the Father.
> 
> Hydaelyn was content with what they had, but Zodiark was not. Zodiark wanted to claim, to conquer, to control, and as they were both the Earth, and gods of earth, he called out to the _earth_ of distant stars.
> 
> So the Meteors came, crashing down into the world and snuffing out all their children - life that Hydaelyn had cared for, nurtured, and loved. The last Meteor was the largest, and that was when Zodiark saw his folly - he had cared so much for his own desires, he had not seen to Hydaelyn’s - and this last meteor would kill her. So he turned and took the meteor himself, but it knocked his arms loose of her, and she no longer clung to him after everything he had done, and she span out into the stars to become the Mother Moon so many legends talk about.
> 
> Zodiark could not live without her, and with his last vestiges of power he abandoned the husk of his body, and wandered its surface as a wraith so he could see her. She, of course, could see him just fine, but now they were more separate, and she found humans, wandering the forests, just learning to make their way in the world. From those humans she selected a single group and made the first of us - the werewolves. She showed us how to hunt, and tasked us with one purpose - protecting Zodiark.
> 
> We did, following the dark shape as he hid and screamed and wept during the day, and wandered the earth, staring up at the moon every night. He could not bear to live without her, and every day was torture. After a time, he could bear to live no longer, and one day stumbled into a cave with a small band of humans. There were thirteen of them, all told.
> 
> One by one he took them in his arms, hoping to find some solace for the loss of his soulmate, but none would satisfy. In return he gave each of them a gift and part of his power, making them what they are. Though we know their names, most of the gifts were lost to time, as are their locations - though I have reason to believe they have a way to find each other, as when truly great historical events have occurred, you can often find all - or nearly all - of them in the periphery.
> 
> The ones whose names we know, and their gifts: Deudalaphon, the Benevolent, he can ease pain, and it is said even heal wounds; Nabriales, the Majestic, the only _real_ wizard in the world, with control of magic; and our friend Solus, known as Emet-Selch, the Angel of Truth, he can force people to only speak the truth.
> 
> The ones whose names we know, but not their gifts are: Lahabrea, Igeyorhm, Mitron, Loghrif, Pashtarot, Halmarut, Emmerololth, Fandaniel, and Altima.

“But that’s only twelve!” Rinor argued. “And I heard the tall one mention Elidibus!”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” Thancred grumbled.

“I’m just saying…” He sighed.

Thancred rolled his eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted…”

> The last is Elidibus. I single him out because he was not given a gift, per se, but instead was given Zodiark himself, to reside within his bones, and to carry on his legacy. 
> 
> And so the thirteen wandered out of the cave at sunset, and Hydaelyn wept to see her soulmate sundered so. So she gave up herself and came down from the heavens to greet the First Brood. She told them that she would divide herself as well, to walk among the mortals, so that she and Zodiark could be reunited through them. But she told Elidibus that he would find his last of all of them, because he was Zodiark in her eyes, and she was still angry and hurt by what he had done. 
> 
> At this, Emet-Selch became angry, and lashed out at Hydaelyn. He told her she was being unfair. Zodiark loved her, had taken a Meteor for her to protect her from his mistake. It was she who had let go of him first, or she would not have been cast out and become the moon. He proved himself the Angel of Truth - telling Mother Moon the things she did not want to hear in that tirade - laying out her imperfections, detailing how she had done nothing to sate Zodiark’s desires because she was happy. That maybe if she had paid attention to his longings as well while they were wrapped in each other’s arms, he would not have summoned the Meteors.
> 
> Hydaelyn was enraged by this, and cursed him. I don’t know what the curse was - only the First Brood do.

“So that’s why…” Rinor mumbled.

Thancred nodded. “That’s the ancient pact that brought us out here. I may not like Solus as a person, but we are bound to protect Zodiark and his children.”

“Not to be… rude or anything, but what do we get out of the deal?”

“Money,” Thancred said off-handedly. “Though humans do not like us, they have never hunted us like they do the vampires. Largely because of their intercession. And this circus doesn’t pay for itself. Solus is technically our Patron.”

“Our patron?” Rinor choked. “But he never said -”

“He wouldn’t,” Thancred interrupted. “I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me, but we both have a healthy respect for the old ways. He pays because that way when he needs us, he can reach out. _That_ is why they will not kill him. For all that he’s a nuisance, he is ancient, and does not let his ego get in the way of his practicality.”

* * *

“Don’t you have anything more impressive?” Solus said, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He glanced at the ceiling as if looking for help. “Zodiark, I should have just done this in Paris.”

“We are not a jeweler, Count Galvus,” the small man said, adjusting his jacket. “And this is not a store. You came here to see our collection. The fact that we let you in the door is testament enough to our respect, but -”

Irritation welled up in him and he crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands in his lap. “Let me cut to the chase, gentlemen. It has become the fashion to present one’s fiance with a ring as proof of both your devotion and your seriousness. So far, all you have shown me is petty fripperies from the last fifty years.” He lifted one hand and picked up the snifter of cognac sitting beside him, swirling it for a moment. “One does not buy his way into the Hapsburg Treasury to purchase a ring he could find at any common estate auction. I am a student of history, and the great romances. I know, _for a fact,_ that Mary of Burgundy’s dowry is in that vault, and she had _quite_ the collection.”

“It’s not that extensive,” the antiquarian argued. “She died at twenty-five.” 

“Yes, but she was well known as Mary the Rich, and her match with Maximilian was a love-match if ever there was one. She had an offer from a prince, and he was only an arch-duke. Their marriage resulted in three children in three years and two centuries of war, but they did it anyway.” He smiled and sipped his drink. “My intended deserves nothing less than proof I would start wars for her. So I can leave with one of Mary of Burgundy’s rings, or I can kill everyone here, leave with one of Mary of Burgundy’s rings, and start an international incident over just who broke into the palace and robbed it like a petty thief while your precious Franz Joseph was away. I’m not picky.”

By the time Solus returned to the White Rose, ostentatious ring tucked safely into his waistcoat, it was nearly dawn. He found [FN] in their room, unpinning her hair before a large mirror. And she glanced in his direction at the sound of the door. “There you are. I was worried.”

“About me?” he laughed. “Darling, that’s absurd.”

“No, what’s absurd was that religious ritual. How can one expect to touch a person’s heart when you don’t even speak their language?” She turned back to the mirror and began brushing out her hair, but he came up behind her and took the brush himself, running his fingers through her locks and savoring the intimacy. 

“Did you eat?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, more than I wanted to. Urianger seems afraid of your disapproval and so insisted on both dinner and tea and breakfast.” Her hands now free, she took a cloth and began wiping her face. He had seen women perform these nightly rituals before, but it seemed strange to him that he had never paid much attention when [FN] did. It was something else he realized he was resolved to change - another way he would try to be better for her. 

“How do you prefer your hair?” he asked quietly, smirking. “I never give you the chance to prepare it for bed when I ravish you to sleep.”

She giggled. “Just a plait is fine.”

With quick, dextrous movements he braided her hair, and tied it off with a small ribbon. “Are you tired?”

“Not yet, but soon, I think. I’ve been up all night,” [FN] said. 

“I’m exhausted,” he confessed. “Would you be willing to lie with me awhile? I find your presence comforting.”

Solus could see her blush in the mirror, and he dropped the braid and placed his hands on her shoulders. He could see the way her body responded to his touch through the thin fabric of her nightgown, and he grinned. “Unless you’d prefer to comfort me in other ways.”

“What did you have in mind?” she murmured and leaned her head against his hand. 

“Well, we don’t have any large mirrors like this at Amaurot,” he observed. “It would be a shame not to take advantage of it.”

“Solus,” she laughed. “You don’t even cast a reflection!”

He leaned down, then, his eyes fixed on her form in the mirror, delighting in how his unseen hands pressed the fabric against her skin, making the blush in her cheeks creep down along her long, delicate neck. He brought his lips to her ear, and saw her eyes flutter shut as she relaxed into his touch. _”I’m_ not the one I want to watch.”


	18. Keep Your Eyes Open [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirror Sex? Mirror sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 100% smut start to finish. Enjoy!

“Do you trust me?” Solus whispered into [FN]’s ear. His breath stirred the curls around her face, and they brushed gently against his skin, every individual strand perceptible to his preternatural senses. She whimpered rather than answering, but he would not accept half-measures today. 

He slid his long, still-gloved fingers into her hair behind her braid and clutched the back of her skull, tilting her head away from him. Instinctively, his eyes dropped to the flutter of her pulse against her skin and he felt his unnecessary breath catch. He wanted more, wanted to consume her completely, but he knew she could at best bear a few tastes tonight. Such agony it was to love a mortal woman. 

His voice was rough with hunger - both sexual and more bestial - when he spoke again. “I said, do you trust me?” Solus did not bite her yet - he had no need when it came to determining whether [FN] spoke the truth. He had spent enough time studying her body that the barest flicker told him truths she kept hidden, even from herself.

“Yes.” A vocalized response at last, though her voice was quiet. A quality he expected - [FN]’s voice always seemed to slip away from her when he made her cognizant of his observations. Despite having put herself up for auction, she was not one to enjoy exhibitionism, and only allowed him that pleasure because of what they were to each other. 

“Good,” he crooned into her ear. He let his tongue flicker past his lips as he tilted his head, and taste her skin at the corner of her jaw. “Who do you belong to?” This second question was more a stroke to his vanity than anything else, and he smiled as her teeth caught on her lower lip. His scandalous lover delighted in the concept of being owned, and hated herself for feeling so - it was only right that he remind her.

Solus hissed, “Say it.” He dragged one of his fangs along the muscle that curved from just behind her ear to the center of her clavicle. Not deep enough to draw blood, but just hard enough to remind her what she had given herself to - an eternal monster, but a monster nonetheless. 

[FN]’s heart sped, and her breathing shallowed. “Tell me who _owns_ you,” he hissed. 

“You,” she whimpered. 

“Good girl.” He would be lying if he said that her submission didn’t stir something primal in him, and make him want her more. 

His eyes shot to the mirror and he reached down, catching the end of her nightgown with the hand that wasn’t tangled in her hair. In the reflection, the edge of the delicate linen was tugged upward of its own accord, revealing a creamy expanse of her thigh. “I’ll have to buy you better nightgowns when we return to Paris,” he cooed. “I prefer you in voile.”

She swallowed and clenched her eyes shut tighter as he let his hand slip properly beneath the nightgown, sliding his fingertips along her skin. He traced the gentle curves of her body upward to her breast, and cupped it in his hand, stroking one thumb over the nipple. “Of course,” he continued, kissing her shoulder, “If you keep responding to me like this I’ll buy you anything you damn well please.”

“Solus.” She tried to turn her head as he spoke, but it took just the barest flex of his fingers to keep her head tilted away. Mortal women were so fragile, and he felt himself hardening at the knowledge it would take little effort on his part to break her. How many women had he broken in this manner through the millenia? He lost count long before the pyramids rose in the deserts to the south, and the number had only continued climbing since then. He let himself indulge in the thought for a few heartbeats - crushing [FN] beneath him in their bed, thrusting into her with enough force to shatter her pelvis while he drained her dry and left her body there for someone else to clean up. 

Solus shook the thought away. Not this time. His [FN] would not join the faceless multitudes of his discarded playthings. He would keep her and be gentle with her until she understood what he would make of her, and then she would shuck her mortality and be able to survive all his most debauched desires. It was her destiny, after all, as his Nha-

The terror that blossomed in his chest silenced that thought before it could complete, and he froze on the spot. He closed his own eyes against the memory, but it came anyway - the ancient cave, the piercing blue eyes - Minfilia, the mortal form of Magnai’s precious Mother Moon. Her anger and her curse still filled him with anxious fear, and he felt his mouth go dry at the memory he would not allow himself to relive. Not now, not here, not so close to [FN]. She wasn’t his Nhaama. She never would be. That is how he kept her safe.

A burning hand touched his cheek, jarring him from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes again to see [FN] looking at him, concern evident on her face. “Solus?” The pseudonym clawed at him. He wanted to hear his own name from her lips, the one only the First Brood knew. He wanted it to echo in his ears as he loved her with all he was. 

He pushed away the anxieties and focused on what was in front of him. [FN], ready and willing to be bedded, and the mirror, so he could enjoy the sight of her body as she came undone for him. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I need you more than I realized.”

[FN]’s smile was dazzling, and he couldn’t help but grin in return. How easily this mortal girl unmade him where so many others had failed. She pressed her lips to his, and it still tasted of innocence despite all that had passed between them.

When she pulled away, he sighed dreamily. “As I said, I’ll have to buy you more in Paris,” he murmured, then twisted his hand away from her breast, rending the thin fabric of her nightgown open and revealing the entire expanse of her body to him in the mirror. He gently pressed her head away again and lowered his mouth to her neck, letting his fangs finally pierce her just above her clavicle. 

A soft sigh was all that preceded her body going lax, the pleasure of his bite lulling her into feelings of security and safety. It amused him that she did not realize how dangerous this was - if he lost control or pulled too much, more than sweet, dreamless sleep would wait for her. With an internal grumble he broke the perilous kiss, and licked the spot to ensure she did not scar. The spot on the other side of her neck, where he’d fed so many times - that was the scar he would leave her when it came time for her to forget mortality. 

To his delight, a thick line of blood had escaped him. He watched entranced as it slid down her body, outlining the subtle curves that no painting could ever capture. As it slid down along her hip and was lost in the thatch of curled hair between her thighs, he huffed. That little display was more than adequate to banish the rest of his stress and remind him just what he wanted to be doing at the moment.

Solus jerked his head toward the bed. “Go lay down. Let me get this.” She raised a quizzical eyebrow but obeyed, climbing in amidst thick duvets and feather pillows. He, meanwhile, grabbed the mirror and lifted it off the hooks in the wall, leaning it instead against the wall beside the bed. It gave a clear view of the plush expanse, and [FN] in profile as she looked up at him quizzically. 

He stood over her, letting his eyes follow every line and curve of her form as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. His fingers brushed the button of his gloves, but a wicked idea occurred to him, and he instead climbed into the bed between her legs. Bending low, he caught the trail of blood where it dipped near her navel and licked his way back along its path to her neck. “Do let me know if it’s too much, my pet,” he purred as he nibbled her shoulder. “I intend to indulge myself.”

[FN] gasped as he pulled away, and trailed the fingers of his hand down along her body as he rocked back onto his heels, still kneeling between her legs. In the mirror he could see she pushed herself up on her elbows to watch him, and he gave her a playful wink as he placed one hand on her knee, and slid the first two fingers on his other hand between her labia. 

“Your gloves,” she said, eyes widening.

“Yes,” he replied, smirking as he pushed his still-covered fingers inside her. “My gloves.” He could feel her arousal soaking through the stiff fabric, forcing her to feel every inch of friction as any natural lubrication was wicked away. She keened the moment his thumb came down on her clitoris, and he encouraged her by rubbing the seam back and forth across the nub. 

She was even more delightful to look at in the mirror. Solus could see the way her head was thrown back, her long braid lost amidst the pillows. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and the light from the gas lamps cast her breasts in beautiful silhouette, emphasizing every slight twitch and jiggle as she panted for him. Her legs were spread giving her balance as she lifted her hips wantonly in time with the thrusting of his hand. 

“Look at you,” he said, smirking at her reflection. 

“Wha..?” she asked, then whimpered as he curled his fingers inside her just the way she liked. He nodded towards the mirror and she glanced in it’s direction. To his immeasurable satisfaction her eyes widened at the sight of herself positioned so obscenely, and her blush became painfully red. She snapped her eyes shut.

“No,” he purred, leaning down and swirling his tongue around her nipple for a moment. “Look at yourself, [FN]. Look at yourself and see how _irresistable_ you are.” [FN] opened her eyes again at his command, though her blush only seemed to grow, curling down her body as she looked. The sight made him laugh. “Who else but you could have enraptured the great Emet-Selch?”

One of her hands flew to her face and she closed her eyes again, but he could feel the way her body responded even through the gloves. He nuzzled her breasts softly, taking a moment of childish enjoyment in the way they bounced in the reflection. He stroked his fangs along the swell of her breast and he smirked to see her fingers twist in the bedsheets. His [FN] was always a delight to toy with.

When her bucking finally became insistent and he realized she was close, he carefully disentangled himself from her. She let out a complaining whine as he removed his gloves and tossed them on the bedside table. “You’ll get yours, [FN], but I want you to earn it tonight.”

“You’re cruel,” she said, and gave him such an adorable pout he nearly changed his mind. 

_Nearly._

Solus leaned close and brushed his lips along her sternum. “That’s what you love about me, [FN] - my cruelty. Now, do you want to earn an orgasm or shall I care for myself and let you go unsatisfied?”

Her arms looped around his shoulders and he took the invitation to stretch himself atop her and kiss her. His [FN] was far too perfect, and he was delighted by it. He knew she would be the death of him, but he would make sure every moment was worth it. 

“What do you want, Solus?” [FN]’s breath against his ear sent a shiver down his spine, and he could feel the gooseflesh crawling along his arms. He was suddenly aware that while she was nude beneath him save a twitch of linen still caught around her arms, he was still dressed save jacket and gloves. That was far more telling of who belonged to whom than anything else; that combined with the way she hung off him as he straightened only inflated his already considerable ego. [FN] was _his,_ damnit, and neither curse nor circumstance could change that, no matter what the future held.

“I want you to get on your knees beside the bed and suck my cock,” he said, watching her face. Solus had never asked this of her before, but that was more habit than anything else. While he enjoyed carnal acts in general, this one afforded him little opportunity to feed from his partner unless they were engaging in mutual activities, and he’d always found it improper to leave a partner wanting in such regards

His request seemed to surprise her, for her eyes were wide and she glanced anxiously at the mirror. “I… erm… I don’t know how.”

“Yes,” he smirked, pulling her up to a sitting position. He tore the last few tatters of her nightgown off of her while he spoke. “But I look forward to the way it will feel as you learn what pleases me. You’re a devilishly smart girl, you’ll find a way to keep me entertained,” he teased.

[FN] blushed and he nodded towards the mirror. “Go on then, on your knees, on the floor, back to the mirror.”

It took all his self-control to keep a gleeful giggle from his lips as she did as he commanded, and the long braid he had given her following the path of her spine down to her perfect ass got him hard in an instant. He had every intention of enjoying this, but he was definitely going to fuck her. While she positioned herself, he unfastened the buttons on his waistcoat, but left it hanging open around his shoulders, then moved to his trousers, pulling his cock free before he positioned himself in front of her, seated at the edge of the bed.

Solus reached down and traced the shell of [FN]’s ear. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he said, and smirked. Her cheeks were near-bruised from all the blushing earlier, but he saw a faint flush as she glanced anxiously at his cock. But [FN] was a brave girl, and wrapped her left hand around the base, guiding it to her mouth.

The first few licks from her scorching tongue nearly drove him to distraction all on their own, purely from the realization that she was doing this. No ‘please’, no ‘thank you’, just his command and her obeisance. It would be enough to drive any man mad, in truth. Then she took him in her mouth.

Her motions were tentative and nervous, which just made the whole thing more obscene. She was such a novice, but a quick study, and at his first stifled groan she threw herself into the act with abandon. She did little more than move her mouth up and down his length, but he saw the way she pressed herself up off of her heels, her whole body moving with every stroke on his shaft.

He took a few minutes to just enjoy the sight of her, his eyes travelling down her back slowly. Her shoulders were slim, and he saw the way her shoulder blades flexed with the movement of her arms, the soft ridges shifting beneath her perfect skin. As she worked him - and got herself a few gasps and groans from his mouth besides - he traced the gentle curve of her spine with his eyes, down to her tucked waist, forced into that strange shape that a lifetime of corsetry did to women of this age. But her hips, Zodiark her hips - they bucked so wantonly that -

_Wait,_ his mind reminded him, _Bucked?_

His eyes snapped down to the bottom of her ass in the mirror, and just for the flash of a second, he saw the tip of her finger. His mouth went dry. _The Minx._

Solus lifted one hand from the sheets and slid it into her hair. “If you’re going to pleasure yourself, lift yourself up properly so I can watch.” Her mouth and motions on his cock stopped for a few moments while she adjusted, lifting herself up further, and Zodiark - every inch of her was beautiful. He swallowed and nodded. “Go ahead.”

[FN]’s mouth went back to her ministrations, but the hand that wasn’t holding him in place slipped between her swollen pink lips. One long fingertip swirled around her clitoris, and her hips bucked again. 

“Zodiark, yes…” he whispered, thoroughly captivated by the lewd display she made of herself for him, watching as her fingers moved from her clit to her slick entrance, her middle and ring fingers sliding into herself while she rubbed the heel of her hand against her clitoris. He saw the way her cunt drooled at her touch, and shuddered in delight when he realized her movements on herself were timed with those on his cock. “Damnable hell,” he whispered.

Sliding one hand into her hair, he instinctively bucked his hips into her mouth, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her hand. Her movements sped, and he felt her panting around his shaft as her orgasm approached. He pulled her by her hair off his cock and dragged his eyes from the show to her face. “You wish it was my cock inside you, don’t you?” he moaned.

Her eyes fluttered shut demurely, and she turned her head slightly, as if ashamed by her answer. “I do.”

Solus pushed her mouth back down onto him and groaned. “Good Girl.” His eyes returned greedily to the way she was working herself up. “Now, I want to watch you cum.” 

It only took a few minutes after that - minutes filled with his desperately ground teeth, trying to stave off his own orgasm until he’d gotten himself under control enough to go back to enjoying this - before she tore her mouth from his cock and cried out for him while her ass and thighs bucked and twitched from her orgasm. 

She blinked for a few minutes in shock, but he pulled his hands from her hair. “Up on the bed, like _hell_ I’m not going to fuck you after that.”

[FN] nodded dumbly and pulled herself up onto the bed, lying back and looking up at him. Sometime during her oral adoration of him his ascot had come undone, and he tugged it off and tossed it to the bedside before unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. “Turn over,” he growled. “I’m going to take you on your knees.” When she didn’t move, he reached down and caught her up in his arms, turning her over quickly and easily. Sometimes supernatural strength was a blessing.

Solus took a moment to slide his hand along her back, starting at the base of her spine and continuing till he reached her shoulders. “You should continue to touch yourself, beloved, for I have more pressing matters to attend to.” She hissed and wriggled her arm down between her legs while he positioned himself and slid easily into her heat.

Fucking [FN] was almost reflexive, and he only took a few thrusts to find that sweet rhythm they both enjoyed. Every tiny brush of her fingertips while she toyed with her clit was ecstasy, and soon he was panting with the effort it took to hold his climax at bay. 

His eyes flicked to her face in the mirror, and he let his eyes travel the length of her body. Her eyes were shut, and a few stray strands of her hair had become plastered to her face, save one that flitteded in and out of her mouth with her panting breaths, outlining the way her lips formed the shape of his pseudonym. Her neck was stretched, down to a soft shoulder and her arm that trailed along her torso, eventually reaching her clitoris. [FN]’s back was arched, and in the mirror reflection, she looked _primal,_ her ass in the air as she pleasured herself and offered her body to any that would take her. And it was all for him - _only_ for him.

“Zodiark,” Solus growled. “Scream for me, [FN]. Tell the world who you have given yourself to.” She whimpered, and her body twisted trying to fight her own orgasm, but he knew what she needed, what would tear through the last bit of her resistance. 

“Open your eyes, [FN],” he ordered. She did, reluctantly, and shut them again upon seeing herself, but at his soft “no” she opened them again. “Look at how lasciviously you’re fucking me. Look how beautiful you are,” he whispered. “I want you to keep your eyes open and finish yourself off. I want you to watch yourself cum.” 

The perversion of his command made her eyes open wider - he backed it up with a deep thrust that made him bottom out inside her and she broke. [FN] wailed his name and her pussy tightened like a vice. Solus was powerless against her, and they came together, his body buckling under the force of his long-denied orgasm.

A moment later he found himself lying atop her, his chest to her back, and his lips along her neck. She was mewling softly, and he chuckled. “I love you, [FN].”

“I love you, Solus,” she replied.

He brushed the hair out of her face and pressed his forehead to her temple. “What say you to twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four?” she asked.

“Twenty-four,” he repeated. “It’s a good age. Old enough to be an adult with some experience, young enough to enjoy it. I think you’ll enjoy being twenty-four forever.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her smile.

“Good, then,” he said, rolling off of her and finally undressing. “Five years.”

“One condition,” she said, and he turned to her, raising an eyebrow. [FN] tugged the blankets over herself. “You get me a mirror like that for Amaurot.”

“As my lady commands,” he said, and pulled her into his arms to sleep. It was the one place he knew she would be safe.


	19. Rolling in her Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group leaves Vienna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse me while i lay some pipe

The small woman knelt before him, her eyes downcast and invisible beneath dark lashes. Her face was further obscured by the black lace veil draped over her caramel hair. She crossed herself, and gently placed her hands in his. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she said, “It has been one week since my last confession.”

“Tell me thy sins, my dear,” he whispered, brushing his thumbs along her rings - each one that he had given her.

“I have killed five men,” she said, plaintively. 

“Why?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer - his favorite answer, never changing, after all these years.

“For you,” she declared, and brazenly tilted her head back to look up into his eyes. “Always for you, Urianger.” 

“Anything else?” His throat was dry, and he longed to feast on her, both literally and carnally. 

“I have had indecent thoughts about my husband,” she purred.

“That is not a sin,” he replied. “Thou art well within thy rights to yearn for my touch.”

She nodded. “This is all I can remember, Father. I am sorry for these and all my sins.” 

He nodded once. “For thy penance, thou shalt say thy rosary daily, and submit thyself to thy husband in all things.” Both he knew she would do regardless, but there was something intimate about demanding her submission in this way. His wife was a willful, arrogant thing, and though her submission was imperfect, it was still something she only gave him. “Now,” he murmured, dragging her to her feet and letting his eyes settle on her nude body beneath the veil. “Pray thy act of contrition, Amadea.”

She licked her lips as he tugged the veil from her hair and backed her towards the bed. “Deus meus.” His teeth found her neck as he bent her back onto the mattress, three centuries together leading their bodies into this, the most familiar dance. “ex toto corde pænitet me omnium meorum peccatorum, ea-”

Her tongue stilled as someone knocked on the hotel room door, but he brushed his nose against her skin and bit harder, urging her on. A moment later she continued in her softly accented Latin. “Eaque detestor, quia peccando, non solum pœnas a te iuste statutas promeritus sum, sed præsertim quia offendi te, summum bonum, ac dignum qui super omnia diligaris. Ideo firmi-”

The knocking came again and he growled. He had just begun to feed and he was too ravenous to suffer anyone but his wife’s presence. She waited for him to withdraw, and when he didn’t, she gave a small huff and continued. “Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia tua, de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum. Amen.”

He gave himself one last deep drink and a few more thrusts before he released her and murmured the prayer of absolution over her trembling body while making the sign of the cross. Then he straightened his robe and went to the door. 

Urianger was less than impressed to see Magnai at the door. “It is the middle of the day, Magnai. I pray for thy sake someone hath died. Why art thou not with _thy_ wife?” He hoped his irritation was evident to the man, regardless of their close friendship.

“Rynn’s sleeping, and I wanted to talk to you without her,” Magnai said.

Urianger scowled and glanced over his shoulder. He could see his wife, sitting up in the bed, the opened wound of his bite at her neck quickly closing as she watched him. He groaned and turned back to Magnai. “Give unto me one hour -”

“You have ten minutes.”

“Thou art as impertinent as thy sire,” he replied, and slammed the door in Magnai’s face.

But Urianger still met Magnai outside his room ten minutes later.

* * *

On their last night in Vienna, Rynn, Sumire, and [FN] sat on the roof of the White Rose, looking up at the moon, surrounded by dozens of empty brown bottles that once held strong beer.

“Twenty-four?” Rynn grumbled, tearing at the paper label of the newest bottle in her hands. “He can’t wait until you’re thirty?”

“Hesssaid claim’d morrrdalz don last,” [FN] slurred, far drunker than her companions. She swayed slightly, nearly tipping over, and Sumire reflexively threw out an arm to keep her from falling off the roof. “Longest s’far is…” she sighed. “S’ven months.”

“This Solus certainly has a lot of confidence in his self-control,” Sumire said off-handedly. 

“Wishee had lesss,” [FN] sighed.

“_I_ wish he had more,” Rynn pouted. “I don’t want to be the oldest anymore.”

“Oldest?” Sumire said, frowning. “I thought you were only turned last year.”

The tall woman shook her head. “Not like that. I was twenty-nine when I was turned.” [FN] and Sumire only gave her confused looks, so she continued. “I will be twenty-nine forever. I’d have liked to have been a few years younger.”

“Yes,” Sumire countered, "but no one questions you being_ ‘Lady Oronir’._ No one countermands you, because you don’t seem like a child play-acting at being an adult. Do you know how many of the cretins I have killed have patted my head before I took their lives? Have _laughed_ at my attempts to terrify them? I will have to live with that forever.”

“Magnai was turned at twenty-one,” Rynn countered. “And I can see it in every plane of his body - his youth, his strength, he was so full of life. I don’t know how he manages to be severe with people when he looks so boyish every time he smiles.”

“Th’otel staff always stares at Sol’s an’ I,” [FN] mumbled, and the other two turned to look at her. She shrugged. “I don’speak German.”

“I’ll have to teach you both, then,” Sumire offered with a friendly smile. “So I don’t have to use magic all the time.”

“Magic?” Rynn choked on her wine.

“She is of Nabriales’s line,” Solus spoke behind them, and all three girls jumped in unison. He chuckled, and they turned to find the most ancient one standing near the top of the stairs with the rest of their quickly growing party. “Magnai has had an idea, and we wanted to see if all three of you were amenable.”

[FN] began to giggle drunkenly as she blushed at Solus, and Sidurgu snickered. Solus merely sighed. “I see I shall have to watch my turns of phrase for the rest of this holiday.”

His fiancée’s smile only broadened as she said, “ ‘Snot th’only thing you like t’watch.”

He struggled desperately for a retort for a few moments, then the rest of their compatriots were laughing, and Magnai thumped his shoulder. “If you don’t turn the girl, I will, because anyone who can leave you at a loss for words deserves to live forever.”

“Yes,” he grumbled, “well…” Solus coughed into his hand. “We were thinking, in the winter, that all of us would return to Svalbarð with Urianger and Amadea.”

Sumire glanced at Sidurgu. “Why?”

It was Magnai who stepped forward to answer. “While all of us are glad to have found our Nhaamas -” Solus turned a dangerous look on his child, but he continued “- or someone who is as close to a Nhaama as we can accept - it is a strange coincidence for three such to be found so close together. Within a single _year.”_

Urianger nodded his agreement. “Elidibus will want to investigate, and further, it is well known that those of our kind turned in such close capacity oft become like unto siblings, regardless of their lineage. ‘Twould be the height of hypocrisy for us to deny the three of you the same friendships Mangai and I have found.”

Amadea shrugged. “It’s just nice to have more women around. And you three would be like sisters.”

Sidurgu nodded. “And I have a gift for Elidibus from Nabriales’s Nhaama.”

That last brought Solus up short, and he turned to Sidurgu in some confusion. _”What?”_

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bore the other members of the First Brood would speak with you more often,” Amadea smirked. “Regardless, we wanted to see if you three would be interested in the trip. You’d be stuck in Svalbarð until the winter ended, as the ships stop coming along with the sun.”

“It sounds fun!” Rynn said, agreeing readily. 

“It’s only for the winter, that shouldn’t be too bad,” Sumire smiled nervously. “Though I should warn you, I don’t have the best history with _sisters.”_ Sidurgu laughed at the comment.

They turned to [FN] but she looked troubled, her hands twisted in her lap. “I… I need to think about it.” She stood, and headed for the stairs back down, wobbling a little from the wine. 

Solus glanced at the others and followed her back down the stairs. She pushed her way into their shared room and into the lavatory. 

“[FN]?” he asked patiently, lingering outside the door. “Please, tell me what has upset you?” This was supposed to be _good._ She was supposed to be _happy._ He was doing what he ought - making a place for her amongst his people, showing her where she would fit in with their friends once she had shucked her mortality and become like him.

“What time does the train leave?” she called from within the bathroom.

“An hour before dawn,” Solus replied. “We’ll be on board a day and a half, and arrive in Ioannina just after sunset.” He looked down at his clenched hands, tracing the seams of his gloves in anxiety. Sometimes the gulf between them felt too wide for anyone to cross, even him.

“And after that?”

He sighed. “Then a carriage, two days, to Dikorfo, where we will remain while Urianger goes about his work. Then we will begin our return trek, to Ioannina, then Vienna, then Paris, then Calais, then London, then back to Amaurot.”

She said nothing for a few minutes, until his patience wore thin. “Why don’t you want to go to Svalbarð, [FN]?” He was forced to wait another few moments for her answer. 

“I’m afraid.”

“Of _what?”_ Solus laughed at the absurdity. “What on this earth could frighten you?”

She opened the door and looked out at him, her face raw and red. “Are you saying a mortal woman should not be afraid of the concept of being alone with a bunch of vampires for a season without the sun?”

“Don’t use that word,” he snapped reflexively.

“Why not? It’s accurate.” There it was again, the fear just beneath the surface of her skin, and he marvelled at her bravery. There were others of his _kind_ who would not dare stand up to him, who would lapse into terrified silence at his commands. Yet [FN] still stood before him and argued, knowing what he was, and based off the way her fingers trembled, knowing what he could do.

Solus sighed again and looked up at her. “You think I would allow any of them to harm you?” he asked.

“All it takes is one mistake,” she said. “It took one swing of Sumire’s sword and Urianger was on me.”

The sharp reminder made him grimace. “That was a mistake that will not be repeated. Every one of us in Svalbarð will know who you are and that you are claimed. None will dare -” He tasted the lie on his tongue, and he realized he could think of a few who would dare - one who might dare most especially, to see him suffer.

After a momentary pause, he changed tacks. “If you do not wish to go, then we will not go. It is that simple. We can wait until you have been turned, and go to Svalbarð after.”

“I do not want to disappoint them,” she whispered.

Just like that, all the tension bled out of them. “I care not for their disappointment. It’s five years, not fifty. Rynn and Sumire may be young and impatient, but the rest are not, and none can argue your right to be concerned in this instance. We will go on to Greece, and discuss it again before we return.” He took her hands in his. “I love you, [FN]. That will not change just because you tell me your preferences.”

* * *

[FN] sat at a table in a small cafe near the train station, quickly eating breakfast before they departed. Though Solus tried to remind her to eat, his own lack of need for food often meant she skipped meals if he lost track of time - and for someone to whom a day was little more than a moment, that happened _frequently._

The rest of their company had gone on ahead, and boarded the train, but she’d convinced Solus to let her remain. Just a few moments of solitude, that’s all she needed. Things were quickly becoming real to her. In the last week she had done and seen so many things she had never expected, and now Solus was making plans - _actual_ plans - that involved their future together. She could no longer deny that he intended to keep her, no longer tell herself that all his honeyed words were lies to spread her thighs.

She was in love with a vampire.

She was in love with an _ancient_ vampire.

She was in love with an _ancient_ vampire who intended to _keep_ her.

_Euphemia must be rolling in her grave,_ she thought. _Though whether it is from the debauchery or the delights, I cannot say._ Her stepmother had never allowed her pleasantries or fine things, just as much as she insisted on strict morality.

“You are [FN] [LN], the Nhaama of Solus,” a woman’s voice said. She looked up to see the speaker, a short woman with black hair and eyes of midnight blue. By now she’d come to recognize the signs of immortality, and they were blatant in this woman - the unearthly stillness, the piercing gaze, the flashes of teeth as she spoke. “I am called Midori.”

_Midori._ The name rattled in her mind - she knew she should recognize it from somewhere - but with everything that had happened, she couldn’t place it.

[FN] decided to skirt around the issue. “I am not his Nhaama. He has made that quite clear.”

Midori smiled. “It is ironic, yes? The Angel of Truth is a master of deception.”

“What do you mean?” The more Midori spoke, the more [FN] was on edge. 

“Long has he lived, long has he suffered, but Mother Moon demands he suffer still. He has not told you of the curse, and he will not. Not even at the end.” Her long-fingered hands took one of the croissants, and she lifted it to her mouth to eat.

_”Midori,”_ a male voice called, and [FN] turned to see Hien standing behind her, his eyes narrowed. “You know better than to eat such things.”

“Eat and eat and drain you dry,” Midori said dreamily. “You are the tree of Solus’s forbidden fruit, and like your Christian Eve, he plucks what he cannot have before the curse comes to call. I wonder what will happen when the flaming sword comes to cast you both from Eden.”

_”If you see that man again, you tell me that instant. If you see him and you aren’t with me, even if it’s midday, even if you think it’s just a face in the crowd you mistook for him, you drop everything and return to me at once.”_ Solus’s words hammered in her mind, and she felt the lick of fear crawl down her spine. None of her friends would harm her - but not all vampires were her _friends._

“I have to go,” she said abruptly, pushing herself to her feet so fast her chair clattered to the floor. 

“You should stay and chat with us,” Midori purred. “I can tell you many things-”

“I have to go,” [FN] repeated, and despite the onlooking crowd, she fled, pursued only by Hien’s laugh.

* * *

A swirl of wool and ribbon burst through the door to their private train car, and Solus looked to find [FN] slamming the door shut behind her, panting and terrified. He was at her side in a moment, his hands on her shoulders.

“What is it?” he asked urgently. “My dear, you’re frightened, what...?”

“Hien,” she choked out. “Hien and Midori.”

Solus’s grip tightened and he looked her over. “Did they harm you?”

“No,” [FN] said, and leaned closer. “Midori said something about a curse you wouldn’t tell me about, and Hien had to stop her from eating a croissant, and I just… I ran.”

_”Good,”_ he said emphatically, and pulled her into his arms. “You can always run to me, [FN]. Do you know if you were followed?”

She shook her head against his chest. “I didn’t see or hear them, but…”

“But you have mortal senses,” he offered. “Would you rather I stay here and guard you, or search the train?”

“Search,” she whispered. “But get Magnai to help. Rynn will guard me until you get back.”

Though they searched high and low through the train cars, there was no trace of Hien or Midori by the time they were forced to return to the private car to shield themselves from the rising sun. Still, Solus barred the door to the small bedroom with a fashionable cane, and made her show him that her revolver was still loaded. “It will not kill him, but it will slow him down.”

She let out a soft sigh. “That’s what Sterling said.”

“He’s the one who gave you the gun?” Solus asked quietly. At [FN]’s nod, he pulled her beneath the sheets with him, stroking her back through her nightgown. “At least the man was good for _something.”_

“Solus,” she whispered. “What curse was Midori talking about?”

Dark memories flashed through his mind, but he shook his head. “I cannot tell you here, or now. But... “ her fingers braided with his. “We have much to discuss. In Greece.”


	20. Death and I were Old Companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] and Solus spend some time alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the history/mythology is flexed slightly for story purposes. I hope you guys enjoy it.

“Wait, we’re leaving them?” [FN] said as the footmen loaded just she and Solus’s bags onto the carriage outside the train station.

Solus nodded. “There are some things that must remain private between us, my dear. This excursion we take is one of them.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll explain more once we’re on our way.”

[FN] turned to the others. “I’ll see you all soon?”

Sidurgu ruffled her hair and grinned. “We’ll be meeting the two of you here in Ioannina when we’re done. Don’t let him feed from you too often, hmm? As much as I’d love to have you be one of us soon, that’s something for you and he to decide.”

“Get him to teach you some German,” Sumire chided and hugged her tightly. “I’d like to be able to speak to you normally.”

Rynn wrapped her long arms around them both. “If he gives you too much trouble, don’t hesitate to stake him. No one will mind.”

_“I_ will,” Solus argued, but Rynn fixed him with a steely gaze, and he lifted his hands defensively. “Fine, fine, but if you don’t send someone to free me in a reasonable time frame I’m not responsible for the aftermath.”

Urianger rolled his eyes. “I assume thou referest to thy ruined doublet some two centuries past?”

Magnai laughed behind his hand. “Good luck, [FN].”

“She’ll need it,” Amadea said, and kissed both of [FN]’s cheeks. “Come back to us soon, my dear.”

She felt Solus’s hand on her shoulder, and turned from the others, climbing into their carriage, and the two of them lapsed into quiet.

“It’s strange,” she said, breaking the silence once they left the city and headed into the countryside.

“What is?” he asked, turning his unusually somber gaze from the picturesque landscapes out the windows to her.

“Travelling alone like this,” she clarified, but gave him a warm smile. “I had gotten so used to having all the others underfoot.”

Solus huffed a tiny laugh and looked down at his hands. “Underfoot is a good way to describe them.” 

[FN] reached out and placed her hands over his. “It might make me a bad person, but I am glad to have it be just us for a little while.”

His head snapped up, and he met her gaze, both of them unguarded for once. “I had begun to fear…” he began, then shook his head.

“Fear what?” [FN] asked.

“When you mentioned being nervous about going to Svalbarð, because you would be a mortal amongst our kind, I worried that you might have been losing your nerve as far as _us.”_ Solus shifted uncomfortably at the confession and glanced away. “They are all far less dangerous to you than I.”

“Maybe,” she replied, and looked out the window in the same direction he was. “But I will forgive _you.”_

Without warning, he tugged on the hand [FN] had offered, and pulled her into his arms. “I used to live here, you know?”

“You had mentioned,” she said, but wiggled herself into a comfortable position on his lap. “When? What was it like?”

[FN]’s eager interest made him smile, and he pressed his lips to her temple before he spoke. “I lived in this area long before it was more formally settled, but that was mainly a solitary, nomadic existence. But I lived among people, actual mortals, in a civilized society starting from… oh…” he chewed his lip for a moment. “Around 7000 BC, by your reckoning, until the Greek civilization was completely folded into the Roman empire, just before the birth of your Christ.”

She gasped, and the shocked delight in her eyes pleased Solus in a strange way. “But, that’s _millenia!”_ she argued.

“Immortal!” he reminded her, gesturing to himself. “One of the oldest vampires in existence, remember? Anyway, before that point I had mostly travelled in Mesopotamia but when I needed to get away from my brothers and sister, I would travel up here. This land… I ruled it, inasmuch as one of us can rule anything.”

Solus’s smile was genuine as he looked out at the rolling hills, lit only by the moon and stars. “I was happy here. As happy as I ever thought I could be. I had a _place,_ and it was mine.”

“Isn’t Amaurot yours?” [FN] tucked her head beneath his chin. 

“Not that Amaurot,” He replied. “There was another, earlier Amaurot, that I intend to show you on this excursion.” 

Their eyes met, and Solus felt something pass between them, something true and ancient that he could not vocalize, even now, for fear. He opened his mouth, then closed it again as words failed him.

“Tell me,” she whispered, placing her hand on his cheek.

He did.

“You have to understand - this is all less than ten thousand years ago,” he explained. “For you… it seems an age ago. For me…” He swallowed and glanced out the carriage window to the lightening sky. “For me this is like discussing the events of the last year.” 

Solus reached past her shoulder and pushed the curtains shut, protecting himself from the coming sun. “I am…” he exhaled slowly, “By my best reckoning, one hundred and ninety-three thousand years old, based off of my memories of the stars. All but the last ten to twelve millenia were…” He trailed off and changed tacks. “You must understand, we were by no means the _first_ humans. We were but one group amongst many, travelling to follow herds of animals, scrabbling a meager existence that revolved around little save fear and confusion and desperate existence between one meal and the next. We lived in what you know now as the Ottoman Empire, on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean.”

He sighed. “Being made _what we are_ was both a blessing and a curse. There were too many of us in a single area, we could destroy an entire nomadic clan within a week if we were to hunger - so we quickly parted ways, wandering off in various directions. I came northwest, With Elidibus, though he continued far beyond me, once I settled into a pattern following the animals of Europe and the Near East.”

[FN] listened to his words, drifting off to sleep to the gentle cadence of his voice telling her about his hundred thousand years of solitude.

* * *

“Do you really think he can love you?”

[FN]’s head jerked up from the newspaper she couldn’t read. Sterling sat across from her in the cafe car as the train rattled through the Alps to Vienna, a sad smile on his face.

“You’ve been deluding yourself, [FN],” he continued. “Solus is more ancient than the written word. Older than mathematics. He existed before _agriculture.”_

Sterling lifted his coffee cup and took a sip, then scratched idly at the edge of the bullet hole in his forehead, an inch or so to the left of the center. “If you were his Nhaama, it would be different. Then he wouldn’t have a choice but to love you. But you know you’re not, you’re just… his current pet. And he will eventually grow tired of your naivete.”

“You’re just angry that I killed you,” she replied, but felt her hands twist, crumpling the newspaper where they clutched it. “And he is Emet-Selch, the Angel of Truth.”

“The Angel of Truth is a master of deception.” Midori’s voice seemed to whisper on the wind, and [FN] abruptly realized there was a croissant sitting on a little plate before her.

“You should eat,” Sterling said, gesturing to the pastry. “You need your strength.”

Obediently, [FN] took the croissant in her hands and brought it to her mouth, but when her teeth sank into it, her mouth filled with blood, heavy with the taste of copper that filled her with revulsion as it flowed out of her mouth and down her chin, drenching the front of her travelling dress.

Sterling’s eyes narrowed. “See what you’re becoming? It won’t just be my death on your hands, but everyone you kill in an effort to feed a hunger that will never be sated. A desire that will never be fulfilled.” 

“But I will only feed from Solus,” she gasped out, choking around the blood that seemed to well up out of her long after she’d dropped the pastry.

“Do you think that absolves you of responsibility for the deaths he will cause for you?” Sterling was rifling through his satchel. “He’s already confessed to one person a week to keep himself sated. You’ll make him raise that to two at least.” He pulled out a long stake, sharpened and polished, and set it on the table between them. “The time is fast approaching where you will have to pick what your story will be, [FN]. Is it the tale of a maiden? Or a monster?”

She was standing by the bed on the train, Solus splayed out with that same stake in his chest, unmoving, but his golden eyes were fixed on her, the emotion in them fluttering quickly between acceptance and despair. Sterling stood between them, the bullet hole in his brow. “You can still choose. You can still change your mind. You can stop being Faust and be Marguerite.”

[FN] looked down at the gun in her blood-covered hands, more blood leaking on them from her open mouth.

“What will you choose?” This was a woman’s voice, and her head snapped up to see someone she did not recognize, sitting on the bed beside Solus. Her long blonde hair hung down over her shoulders, two forelocks bound up with pink ribbon. Her eyes were the deepest blue, and seemed to watch [FN] with an almost maternal understanding.

“Who are you?” [FN] asked.

“A friend,” the woman replied, and glanced at Solus on the bed, “Though he doesn’t realize it yet. And neither, I think, do you.”

Shaking her head, [FN] said, “That tells me nothing. Sterling claimed to be my friend. So did my stepmother, in the early days.”

The other woman lifted a hand to her lips and giggled. “You still have to choose.”

“I already chose,” [FN]’s voice was sharp, and the woman’s eyes lightened in surprise. 

“When you killed Sterling?”

“Before that,” she said.

The woman tilted her head. “When you accepted he is what he _is?”_

“Even before that,” [FN]’s felt her own resolve strengthening her limbs, reassuring her.

“When did you choose Solus, then?” The woman seemed almost irritated.

“That’s why you’re asking the wrong questions,” [FN] offered. “None of this happened because I chose Solus. It’s all because I chose _myself.”_

Approval brightened the other woman’s eyes. “When?”

“In the office of a man named Morgan, in an auction house in London.” She glanced back to Solus, and though he still didn’t move, his gaze was filled with that boyish adoration he had whenever she did something particularly brave. [FN] gave him a warm smile, then looked back to the woman. “Solus is just the poor wretch who ended up along for the ride.”

“I don’t think he minds,” the other woman said. “Well, we shall see if you keep your nerve. If you survive, I will wait for you in Svalbarð.”

“Who are you?” [FN] asked again.

“I’m the one who cursed him,” she said, looking over at Solus. “Now we will see if he is worthy of you.”

* * *

“[FN],” Solus whispered gently, waking her from a sound sleep draped across him. “[FN], my darling, we’re here.”

Her eyes opened, staring up at him for a moment, before she put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Though he was surprised by the affection so divorced from the sexual aspects of their relationship, he welcomed it gladly, and put his arms around her as well, squeezing her close. “Are you all right, my dear?” he asked anxiously.

“I just…” Her voice sounded strained. “I had a strange dream, but I need time to process it before I talk about it.”

“All right,” Solus said. “Do you feel rested, or do you want to sleep more once we’re settled in the house?”

“The house?” she asked curiously. 

He nodded. “This place is important to me. I maintain a small house here in the village. No servants, of course, though the locals may come by during the day. You’re welcome to receive them or turn them away, as you wish.”

[FN] didn’t pull away from him, and Solus felt something in his chest warm at the way she made herself comfortable in his arms. “I am well rested, though I don’t know if I…” she paused. “After my dream, I don’t know that I am prepared for physical intimacy right now.”

“That’s fine,” he smiled. “I was hoping to take you for a walk, anyway.”

Together they exited the carriage, and the driver carefully took down their suitcases while the footman began taking them into the small house before them. 

[FN] stretched and wandered closer to the house, examining the beige stonework and half-wild garden. As the footman passed her, he bobbed his head, and said something to her in Greek, but her confusion was evident on her face. He barked a laugh, then the driver said something in a stern tone. Solus, who had been chuckling behind one gloved hand, interrupted the conversation, and spoke to both of them. 

She knew he had lived here. He’d been excited to bring her to Greece since the option was on the table. But now to hear him speak the language… It flowed from him with an easy familiarity English never had, and he smiled boyishly as he spoke it, his entire posture relaxing. [FN] could even feel her face heat at the way it rolled off his lips and tongue, like the purr of a contented cat.

Solus must have caught her staring because he turned his grin on her again, and said something else in Greek, and both men laughed and clapped him on the shoulders before tipping their hats to her respectfully and climbing back onto the carriage.

“Do you know them?” [FN] asked, feeling the blush in her cheeks.

He nodded as he approached. “I knew them when they were children. The Galanis boys.”

“Children…” she murmured, “did they notice you haven’t aged?” Worry lept into her throat, and it must have been evident in her face and voice, because his smile only broadened. 

“[FN],” He said gently. “Everyone in this village knows what I am.”

“What?” She looked around, suddenly confused. “But… How?”

“It’s a long story,” He replied, then nodded toward the house. “We have a long walk ahead of us, if you’re amenable, but most of it will be in the countryside, so if you need to freshen up, now is the time.”

She nodded, and headed into the house, but still spared one glance back at him from the doorway, surprised at his light, contented smile as he looked up at the stars.

* * *

“I do not know how well educated you are on Ancient Greek mythology,” Solus said, taking her hand as the last glimmers of light from the village vanished beyond a hill. “So forgive me if some of this is already familiar to you.”

“About… Zodiark, something like nine thousand years or so ago, now, an epidemic ripped through the nascent Greek population. It made boils rise on your skin, that given the lack of medical knowledge at the time, would quickly lead to infection that seeped into the blood, and then death.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t cure it, but it was a _terrible_ way to die.”

They turned off the road into the brush, approaching what seemed to be a large hill, indistinguishable from the dozens that surrounded it. “I found a man while I was travelling, abandoned by his family for fear he would infect them. He begged so pitifully, I asked what he wanted. _’Release,’_ he told me. _’Release me from this terrible fate.’_ So I did.” Solus shrugged. “I killed him, and burned his body. The smoke drew attention, and when I woke the next day, I found people waiting for me, asking about it. I merely told them I had killed a man who suffered the illness that plagued them, to spare him the misery of a slow death.”

He sighed. “The next night, when I awoke, a dozen people waited outside the cave where I slept, all infected, all seeking the same _’release.’”_

[FN] watched him curiously as he walked to a large boulder, nearly the size of the little house in the village, and braced himself against it, pushing it aside as if it were nothing but a slightly stuck door.

“I granted their request, of course. It was a simple thing for me, and even then, death and I were old companions.” Solus offered his hand, at the top of a set of half-crumbled stairs that descended into unrelenting darkness. 

_“You have to choose,”_ a voice whispered in her mind, but [FN] brushed it away. She’d made it clear, both to herself and that strange woman in her dream - her choice had been made. Still, something strange and wonderful with the weight of _permanence_ flooded her heart as she took his hand and followed him into the darkness.

A few steps inside, he continued. “Each evening I would find a crowd of the sick waiting for me, and I would dispatch them and burn their bodies on a pyre. Until a week had passed, and when I stepped outside to greet the night, I found an unafflicted woman, her hands on the shoulders of a child in an advanced stage of the illness.”

Solus swallowed in the dark. “She asked if there was anything I could do, anything to cure the little one. I told her I could not. The only thing I could offer anyone was the release of a painless death. She asked if her child would live.” His voice wavered a little. “I am Emet-Selch, the Angel of Truth, so I told her the truth. The little boy would die, probably within the month, in pain and agony. Or I could claim him then and there, and spare him the worst.”

A scrape, then a crack, and a match flared to life between Solus’s fingers, burning [FN]’s eyes with its brightness, and she shied away. He dropped it into a brazier, laden with fresh coals, and soon it ignited, lighting the passageway they were in. Ancient murals covered the walls and ceilings, chipped and faded with age. She let go of his hand to examine them while he lit a torch and continued speaking. 

“The woman asked that I release her son, and for my name. I had not yet learned the need for secrecy - for fake names - so I gave her my true name. She carried it on her tongue, back to her village. The other villagers carried the tale, and my name, further still.” His voice was rough with anxiety and memory. “I left for a time, to go back to Mesopotamia to grab some tablets for Elidibus, though I think none of them were of particular note, and when I came back a year later, my cave - _this_ cave - had been transformed.”

[FN] took in the murals, her eyes widening even as he pushed open the doors at the other end of the passage. A figure that looked like Solus, standing with two other men drinking wine. Solus, climbing out of the throat of a black smudge vaguely shaped like a man. Two men seated together on a rock while Solus looked on in disapproval. She stumbled to his side as he guided her through the double doors into a larger antechamber. Two chairs, carved of stone, sat on a dais at the far end, and [FN] approached them, taking in every detail while Solus quickly lit braziers around the room, filling it with enough light for her to see clearly. 

The chair on the left was simple, all geometric lines and hard angles. The chair on the right, however, was carved with twisting vines, clustered grapes, heavily laden branches of olives, and in the center of the back, an array of six teardrop shapes, still slightly pink from ancient, faded paint. [FN] reached out and touched the tiny bumps gently as she felt Solus standing behind her, taut with nerves.

“The people of the village know what you are,” she whispered. 

“They are what remains of the priesthood devoted to me,” he offered.

“This place is covered in murals of…” She glanced over her shoulder at him, then back to the chair.

“It was called the _Νεκρομαντεῖον,”_ he said, “and it was my temple.”

[FN]’s hand shook as she reached out and touched the tiny bumps again. “They’re not pomegranate seeds at all,” she whispered. “They’re drops of blood. Your blood.”

He stepped closer and placed his hands on her waist, lifting her up and turning her, setting her in the vine-carved chair facing him. “My gift,” he said quietly, “to the woman with whom I would share everything. Eternity with me among the dead.”

“You are…” [FN] began, but swallowed nervously. “You are…”

“Say it,” he begged, clutching her hands in his. “It has been millenia since any said my _true_ name, and for these past few months I have dreamed of hearing it from your lips.”

[FN] reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks, brushing along his cheekbones. “You are Hades,” she said.

He smiled, then, beautiful and wide and unashamed of his fangs as joyous tears slipped down his cheeks and along her thumbs. “I am.”


	21. Terrified of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] and Hades spend time together in Greece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buh. February is never my month. At least it's ending!

The way Solus - no, _Hades_ \- held [FN] now was different than he ever had before. Not possessive or protective, just gentle, just for the pure joy of feeling her in his arms. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his, savoring the moment.

Well, she at least _tried_ to savor the moment. Dozens of questions burned her tongue with their eagerness to be asked, but two swam to the forefront, and she asked the first before she could bite it back.

“W-what about… Persephone?” [FN] asked, glancing down at the chair she sat in. “I…” she swallowed. “Was she your Nhaama?”

Hades chuckled and climbed into the chair beside her, sitting in it sideways so he could look at her. “She was a myth, born from the people’s vague understanding of soulmates. Many did not like the idea of me alone, so they created a mythological woman worthy of me. I am amused by how close they came to the truth.”

A blush ripped its way across [FN]’s cheeks. “I don’t think my mother was Demeter,” she countered.

He grinned in amusement. “I don’t recall saying I was speaking of you.” Distress twisted her heart, but he continued. “I am teasing you, of course. But no, you may not be Demeter’s child, my dear, but you are a shaft of sunlight, stolen from the mortal world of life and plenty. And I have brought you to my side and there I intend to keep you,” Hades reached out and stroked the tiny drops of blood carved into her chair. “Just as soon as you consume the fruit of death.”

She stared at him for a few moments, then looked at the floor. “What happens if…” she swallowed. “What happens if you’re wrong? If you find your Nhaama, despite the odds.”

“I won’t,” he said, dismissing the question with surety she didn’t feel. 

“I know you believe that, and I’m not saying you are wrong,” [FN] persisted, “but humor me. Let’s say in a thousand years you are out hunting while I’m at Amaurot waiting for you, and you meet your Nhaama. What happens then?”

His face softened, and she felt his fingers stroke her cheek. “Then I’ll kill her.”

“W-what?” Her eyes widened. “Why would you kill her?” [FN] was suddenly breathless. “You could be happy - _truly_ happy! And you’d just throw it away on -”

“[FN],” Hades said gently. “I am already happy - with you.”

“Yes, but -” she began in exasperation, but he shook his head.

“The curse wouldn’t let me be with her anyway,” he offered.

[FN] glanced down, and leaned her head against his hand. “I wanted to ask about that, too.”

“It’s a simple curse, really. She will die before I can turn her into a vampire,” He chuckled.

“That’s the second time,” she said. “The second time you have said _’Vampire;’_ I thought we weren’t supposed to use that word.”

“I told you, I am Emet-Selch. And between you and I… I will call a spade a spade. It is an impolite term, but we do not have one better.”

A soft cough drew their attention, and a woman stood in the doorway. Her clothing was strange to [FN]’s eyes, but when she spoke, her accent was undeniably British. “Lord Solus, you asked Mr. Galanis to send me to you?”

“I did,” he said, “Though I expected you’d be waiting at the house.”

The woman curtsied. “I went there first, my lord, but when you were not there I returned to Mr. Galanis and he told me to check here.”

“I see,” he chuckled. “It is well enough.” Hades stood, and took [FN]’s hand. “My dear, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Molly.”

“Molly?” [FN] stood to follow after him, then smiled. “How do you do?”

Molly bobbed a respectful curtsey. “‘Tis a pleasure to meet you, Lady Heathfield.”

“Lady Heathfield was my grandmother,” [FN] explained, but Solus chuckled. 

“I fear I hadn’t gotten around to telling her, yet,” he explained apologetically to Molly. “[FN], my love, you _are_ Lady Heathfield. The title passed to you upon your grandfather’s death.”

“So the telegram was for me,” she said. “Though it said very little, just that things were proceeding in due course.”

Solus chuckled. “Yes. That was the first telegram. I received another in Vienna. The queen has given her consent, and the estate is yours without question. The letters patent have already been published in a number of newspapers, and a copy has been sent to Amaurot for safe keeping, as well as another for our solicitor.”

“That can’t be right,” [FN] said. “I’m a woman, a… I’m barely nineteen!”

Confusion flickered in his face, but Molly took over, hands on her hips. “And you think that should matter one bit?” She sniffed. “You look like you need a good meal and a good night’s sleep. I take it Lord Solus rushed you down to this old ruin the moment you got out of the carriage?” To [FN]’s shock, and no small amount of delight, Molly turned a disapproving eye on Hades. “I’m sure the rest of the villagers would love to see you. Let the poor chit get some rest.”

“[FN] is used to staying up all ni-” he began.

“I don’t care if she’s used to starving herself and running marathons all the night and day. You hired me to see to her, and I will, even if it means crossing _you.”_ Molly focused on [FN], clearly dismissing Solus with her body language. “Come, my lady. Let’s get you back to the house and I’ll make you something simple.”

[FN] glanced between Molly’s unbothered, imperious expression and Hades’s incredulous face, then laughed herself hoarse.

* * *

“I was there when he killed your stepmother,” Molly said, setting a bowl of soup in front of [FN] at a small table in the kitchen. “She’d hired me to help around the house after you left.”

[FN] blinked. “You know what he is, then?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, flapping one hand. “I was terrified that night, but he killed my employers and offered to send me here, to Amaurot.”

“This place is Amaurot? The original Amaurot?”

“Yes,” she said. “Though outsiders to the village call it ‘Dikorfo,’ I think. I’m still getting a handle on the Greek tongue - it’s so nice to speak the Queen’s English again.”

“Why?” [FN] stared at Molly. “I mean, I’m glad he was kind to you, but I’ve never known Solus to do anything that doesn’t personally benefit him.”

The woman turned to her then, clucking her tongue. “Your Solus loves you with a passion to rival the stars, my dear. You should have heard the things he said to your stepmother; should have seen the look on his face when she admitted she’d murdered your father. I’ve seen men angry. I’ve seen men hate. But until that day I had never seen a man that I was sure actually would - and _could_ \- destroy this world and everyone in it if anything happened to the one he loved.”

[FN]’s blood went cold. “She…” The spoon tumbled from her hand. “Euphemia murdered my father?”

Molly’s face turned sorrowful. “You didn’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t.” [FN] swallowed and stared down at the soup.

* * *

She was still staring, forcing herself to eat when Solus returned. [FN] was here. _Here._ Amaurot - the one place in all the world where he felt like he could be himself without agenda or pretense. Her disquiet unnerved him, and before he realized what he was doing, he had crossed to her side. 

“Is everything all right?”

[FN] looked up at him, so many emotions swimming in the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I…” Her voice was hoarse, and he snapped his gaze to Molly. Before he could say anything, however, he felt his lover’s small hand clutch at his gloved finger. “Can we talk, alone?”

Molly nodded. “Why don’t you two go upstairs? I’ll clean up down here and head home.”

He glanced at [FN] for approval, but she was already standing, moving that way. With a sharp nod to Molly, he followed after her.

She didn’t even seem to see him as she tried to unpin the fashionable hat from her hair, finally crying out in frustration as her fingers shook too much for the task. 

“[FN],” Hades whispered, and took a spot behind her, carefully tugging the pins out of her hair as she buried her face in her hands and wept. In silence, he set them on the vanity, then reached into her valise to pull out her comb and brush before he set himself to detangling it.

Hades lifted the glossy sheet of her hair and began twisting it into a simple rope when she finally spoke. 

“Euphemia killed my father?” she asked, though he could sense it was more a test than a request for information.

“Yes,” he replied.

“And you killed her.” That was most definitely not a question.

“Yes.” He paused. “Are you angry?”

She began unbuttoning her travelling jacket. “Only that I didn’t get to kill her myself. Why did she do it?”

Taking the hint, he helped her out of the jacket and draped it over the chair before he unlaced the her skirt while she unbuttoned her shirt. “The monthly stipend. Your mother was the only daughter of Lord and Lady Heathfield, and she died before she could inherit it from her parents. When your grandfather died, the title was held in abeyance for you as heir presumptive, until you came of age, but a monthly stipend set aside to see for your care and schooling until you were old enough to take the title in your own right.”

“But… I never went to school. I had books. And Euphemia.” [FN] stared unseeing at her own reflection as her skirt, then petticoats, seemed to fall to the floor of their own accord. Then she shrugged off her shirt as the lacings of her corset came undone, one by one. Though she couldn’t see them, she could feel Hades’s cool fingers tugging at the ties, and she closed her eyes, letting her head drop back to his shoulder. “So what did she do with the money?”

“Her husband had a number of gambling debts,” was all he said, but he kissed her neck affectionately. “I did confess to killing him as well.”

“I suppose I will have to live with that regret. Not being able to kill them myself,” she mumbled. “I am angry, Hades.”

“I know.” He tugged off her corset, leaving her in her shift and stockings. 

“I want to lash out,” [FN] continued. “But the people I want to lash out at are dead.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“What do you do? What do you do when you think about the people who hurt you the most, but are already dead?” she asked.

“The two people who have hurt me the most are both _very_ much alive. One of them I will not harm. He is, after all, myself.” The flat expression she gave him despite her sob-swollen face made him chuckle. “The other… well, I am simply sidestepping her curse all together by choosing to be with someone who is not my Nhaama. She cursed me that my Nhaama would die before we could be together. So I am simply choosing a different path for myself. Mortals do it every day.” The lies piled up on his tongue, drying out his mouth as [FN] stepped out of his arms and climbed into the plush bed. 

“Tell me what happened,” she said simply, watching him close the elegant wooden shutters painted with pomegranates that would prevent sunlight from seeping into the room. 

Hades lied. “I confronted the ancient Mother Moon, Hydaelyn, at the beginning of all things. I told her a truth that she didn’t want to hear, and so she cursed me - she ensured that I would always know a truth from a lie. And then, with the ring of perfect truth, she told me that my Nhaama would die before we could be together.”

[FN] said nothing, just watched him, and he wondered if their proximity had given her some uncanny ability to see that he was lying. But at last, she turned, letting the long rope of her hair slide over her shoulder and behind her back. “Stay with me?” she whispered.

“Of course,” he replied.

* * *

_”Hades.”_

_His head snapped up, and he focused on the woman standing before him. He had torn her to shreds with her own actions, the double standards, the demands. Zodiark had done some things wrong, yes, but she could not act as if she was innocent in the proceedings._

_“I curse you,” the woman said, her eyes the color of forget-me-nots, but with none of that flowers delicacy. _

__”No,”_ Elidibus choked out, but she ignored him. _

_“You will, indeed, find your other half. In the far-flung future you will find her, sweet and innocent and ripe for the plucking, and she will give herself up to loving you more and more with every passing day. But you will not get to keep her. Before you have known her a year - before you’ve had the chance to turn her - she will die.”_

_Hydaelyn’s face twisted into a vengeful, satisfied smirk - then it was Minfilia’s face. Minfilia, Elidibus’s soulmate. “Unless you sacrifice yourself to save her.”_

_Hades snorted. “No woman will be worth that.”_

_Her smile was as enigmatic as it was cruel. “We’ll see.”_

* * *

He laid awake, staring at the ceiling of the little bedroom in the little house in Amaurot. Tonight, he would do it. Tonight, he would ask. Tonight, he would tell her the truth and damn the consequences. 

But he didn’t. Not that night, or the next, or the next. She would sleep and he would sit up at midday, the ring he had taken from the Hapsburg treasury glittering in his palm as he thought about his life, his desires, his curse and the woman who was most definitely not his soulmate.

Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe he could just do what felt right and figure things out when it came to that. Losing her, losing himself, those were paltry, simple things beside the painful truth in his heart. [FN] would be his greatest regret, one way or another. Either regret that he’d had so little time with her, or regret that his own selfishness had cost him all of hers.

The Angel of Truth could not lie to himself, not really, no matter how he acted like things were not the way they were. So, four months after he had found her at an auction house in London, he slipped a six hundred year-old ring onto her finger while she slept, and prayed she would find it acceptable.

[FN] said nothing about the ring itself the next night, but as they took dinner together with the villagers who had come to love her, she asked if there were any marriage traditions she should know about.

Hades coughed. “As your family is a sensitive subject, I doubt submitting you to an Athenian wedding would be helpful, nor am I interested in finding your nearest male relative to marry you off to.”

She nearly choked on the _vin santo_ he had poured for her. _”Relative?”_

He laughed and put an arm around her. “In ancient Athens it was tradition for an _ἐπίκληρος_ to marry their nearest male relative to keep her property in the family, as it were.” More laughter bubbled up from him as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “We could always go with the Spartan traditions and meet up in the woods in the middle of the night to take our pleasure together until you are with child.”

Another flat look - Zodiark, she was getting good at them. “You said you were sterile.”

“And so I am,” he agreed, “but I am most certainly willing to try.”

[FN] laughed, a real laugh, and let her head drop to his shoulder in a surprising act of intimacy, especially given the people around her were near-strangers. “I wish every night could be like this,” she murmured under her breath so only Hades could hear. “Promise me we can come back here again?”

“Amaurot is yours, [FN]. Both incarnations of it, and any others that may come in the future. Live here, live in England, wherever you damned well please. Only let me live with you, my beloved, and I will be content.” It gratified his heart that he could not taste a lie in his words.

“I think… once we are married, I would like to summer here. At least the next few years, until…” she made a vague gesture towards herself. “Here, I feel like I am your partner, not your plaything.” 

Pressing his lips to her hair, Hades said, “Well, you’re still my plaything, my dear. I’m not likely to ever give that up. But you need only issue a command and I will follow it.”

“Liar,” she breathed. “I can think of a thousand commands I could give you that you would not obey.”

“Try me,” he argued, and took his own sip of the _vin santo,_ which to him now tasted as if it were a paltry attempt to mimic the sweetest taste in all creation - [FN]’s blood.

She opened her mouth then froze, and shook her head. “The commands you would not obey are ones I don’t want you to follow anyway.”

“And that,” Hades countered, “is why I will follow your commands, [FN]. You will never ask me to do something that I would find objectionable. You are too perfect a match for me for that.”

[FN] smiled into her wine glass. “I didn’t really want to live, you know. I was ready to die after the auction.”

“I know,” he said, quietly.

“I’m terrified of the future, because I actually want it,” she continued. [FN] cuddled closer to him, and he tightened his grip around her shoulders. “I can’t wait for everything we can have together.”

Hades didn’t say a word, but stared up at the moon, and wondered if he should take up prayer.


	22. Half-Feral [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up Greece and next chapter we'll be heading back to Vienna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh and i guess there's some smut.

Months went by. Spring passed into Summer in that idyllic village, and in that time [FN] seemed to blossom into her own. Though the sun’s long reign kept Hades confined to the house for the majority of the time, he did not mind. His beloved was there when he woke, when he slept, and when he yearned for her, and the forced seclusion gave him time to focus on his music. Music which now - in the presence of the one person he had thought he would never find - seemed to flow from him like water from that ancient spring beneath their house in England. 

[FN]’s innocent, unabashed love seemed to fill him to the brim, and he had no choice but to pour out everything that spilled over as music - concertos, arias, ballets, and librettos. The opera he wrote now for the woman he adored was his finest work - a story of love and circumstance and sacrifice. Hades could only hope that after all was said and done in its soft strains whichever of them survived would find some echo of this time they’d had together.

To his surprise, [FN]’s great passion seemed to have become observation. Every evening she would wrap him in a torrent of words about the things she’d seen: Flowers that bloomed in the hills, Cats stretched out in the sunlight, Every intricate detail of the workings of an olive press. Rather than be tedious and boring as he had feared, Hades found himself becoming more delighted with the world around him, as the echo in his mind changed from _oh, this again,_ to _this would absolutely enrapture her._ When the telegram that came at the end of August informing him the others would like to head back to Vienna and begin the trek back north didn’t fill him with relief, as he’d expected when they had arrived, but disappointment. His [FN] had blossomed, and some part of him feared that a return to the dreary moors would cause her to retreat again.

And yet, when Hades told her of the telegram, [FN] threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “While I will certainly miss having you all to myself, I do miss our friends, too.” She smiled shyly, then. “But when we get home I’ll still have you all to myself most of the time, yes?”

Hades laughed. “Would you even know what to do with me?”

“Oh, I’ve a few ideas,” she purred.

That had been another advantage of their time in Greece - [FN] had come into her own with regards to her sexuality, and now did not shy away when he would have her. In fact, she often pursued him when the urges took her, and she had taken on a constant pallor from continual slight blood loss. But there was joy - so much joy between them - that he could not ask for more than this.

* * *

Thancred scowled as another carriage rolled past Amaurot toward the shore.

“That’s seven,” Martha said, dusting her hands on her skirts.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Kitty asked.

“According to the villagers,” Fletcher replied, “Our Miss [FN] is Lady Heathfield now. They’re probably hoping to catch her when she comes home.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rinor said, his mouth wrapped around a buttered scone. Thancred was still giving him dirty looks for skipping breakfast. He swallowed. “I heard a few of the gentlemen moving into the village are hoping to make a match with her.”

Merritt furrowed his brow. “Are they not aware she and Count Galvus are… attached?”

_“Engaged,”_ Thancred and Rinor replied in unison. 

Merritt nodded in agreement. “A parcel came through with the receipt for me to add to the ledgers. His Lordship spent a pretty penny on that ring.”

Martha beamed. “Oh, that’s lovely. A nice wedding will do something right proper for the estate. And children! Oh won’t that be a delight.”

At the mention of children, Rinor choked on his scone and Thancred thumped his back while laughing behind his hand. “I doubt there will be any children,” the older man said. “And thank God for it. Lord Solus is insufferable enough.”

“Don’t be so cruel. Every woman wants children,” Kitty chided.

* * *

“I absolutely do not want children,” [FN] said, shaking her head. “I know everyone talks like children are this magical thing that makes every woman’s life complete, but I just…” she sighed heavily. “My childhood was terrible, I have no experience with children, and considering where I want our lives to be in a few years I don’t think children are conducive to that.”

Molly scowled, and [FN] rolled her eyes. “It’s better this way. Can you imagine me trying to mother a child who would eventually be older than I am? Can you imagine Solus as a _father?”_

“Absolutely,” Solus said, coming up the stairs. “I raised Magnai didn’t I?”

[FN] snorted. “If that’s your example of successful child-rearing then I’m even more glad I have no desire to procreate. Magnai’s half-feral and practically raised himself.”

“You wound me, my dear,” he replied, then glanced at Molly. “Shouldn’t you be heading home? It’s a bit late.”

It was barely nine in the evening, and [FN]’s surreptitious glance in his direction showed she was aware of that. But Molly took the hint regardless, and headed out as Solus lingered in the doorway to her room. 

She pretended not to notice him, going back to packing her bags without a word, though he could tell but the fluttering of her heart and the slight parting of her lips that she was aware of his eyes as they followed her every move. He said nothing, and waited until she had only her overnight bag to finish before he moved to her side and placed his hands on her hips. 

“It’s our last night here,” Hades whispered against her skin. “We’re not going to be able to be _nearly_ as playful around the others.”

Tilting her head, [FN] laughed. “They’ve never said a word about our escapades before.”

“For fear of me,” he countered.

“And you think they’ll suddenly stop fearing you?” She said, turning to face him.

“You don’t,” He nuzzled at her jawline. “It sets a bad precedent.”

“I’m your fiancée. It’s different.” 

Hades gave her a sardonic smirk. “I am terrifying, you know.”

_“Please,”_ she rolled her eyes. “You’re completely under my power.”

Laughing, Hades licked his teeth. “Oh, _am_ I? I’ll have you know, I am a threatening creature of the night and I can break you whenever I like.”

“And I can do the same to you,” [FN] countered, her chin held high. “Whenever I damned well please.”

“Prove it,” he hissed, but he couldn’t keep the grin from his face as he stripped off his jacket and shirt.

She watched him for a moment, her eyes unreadable. “Do you trust me not to kill you, even when it seems like I might?”

Hades laughed again. “My dear, if you even come close to killing _me,_ I would be more proud of you than I have ever been. And a damn sight more comfortable leaving you alone with others of my kind. And it would be a delight to die at your hands, if I must die at all.” It was an amusing train of thought and one that had him harder than he’d been in months, but he was so much stronger than his beloved that she could not present any real threat.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t realize she had the stake until it was driven into his chest.

Falling to the floor like a plank of wood, he found his limbs locked up again as they had been on the train, and he could do nothing but stare endlessly at the fraction of the room open to his gaze. 

[FN] laughed, full and rich, and he saw her little embroidered slippers come into his field of view. One delicately pointed toe, decorated with the image of protea blossoms, caught his shoulder and she nudged him onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve been your plaything for the better part of a year now, Hades. And I have learned much from all the people I have met.” Though most of his vision was occupied with the ceiling, he could see the pile of curls on top of her head in the very edge of his peripheral vision. “Including Sterling.”

He was powerless against her, truly powerless, and as he heard her clothes hit the floor, he wanted to laugh. The idea that she was going to use him for her pleasure, and could kill him without much effort when he was like this was intoxicating. Yet again, he was overcome with his adoration for her, even as her face came back into view.

A sweet smile graced her face, and she leaned close, kissing his cheek, his lips, his chin. “I know you’re going to make me pay for this, so I might as well make the most of it, hmm?” [FN]’s giggle came as she slipped back out of view, but he _felt_ her hands on his abdomen, then his cock as she positioned herself and slid down onto him.

Hades felt himself momentarily glad that [FN] had not been alive during the height of the Inquisition, for she would have made a most _fearsome_ torturer. He could feel everything - _absolutely everything_ \- as she rode him, even the brush of her fingers against her clitoris to speed her orgasm along. And her uninhibited gasps and sighs - this was even better than the first night in Vienna. He did not doubt for a moment that [FN] had been made for pleasure, and he was the fool - cursed or blessed, he could not say - who would enjoy and suffer every moment.

The desire to touch her was overwhelming, tearing at the careful edges of his sanity, digging into the man he had been when he’d been turned - someone primal and unchecked who would have taken this girl until he broke her. When her climax came and she cried out for him, his throat burned with the desire to scream. He was on the edge of an orgasm, but without the use of his muscles, could not have it. His body could not perform the reflexive function that would allow him to find release.

His cock went cold as she slid off him, and he couldn’t see her, but he could feel the heat radiating off her body as she lay on the floor beside him. Every pant as she caught her breath drove him insane. He longed to take her, to touch her, but [FN]’s little trick left him helpless on the edge of pleasure.

After her breathing returned to normal she stood, treating him to an elbow and a flash of her hips as she straightened. Then she was gone again, back to packing while nude. [FN] kept up a steady patter of conversation, but just when he thought he might be cooling down enough to control himself, she returned, and mewled how she desired him before mounting him again.

Sometime after the third or fourth time she rode him to her completion, keeping him on the edge, what little control he had left evaporated. His mind and spirit strained against the prison of his own flesh the stake had trapped him in, his reason long fled. Though it had been only a few hours after sunset when she staked him, he noticed the room lightening as day approached, and heard her close and latch the shutters, but it made little difference to him. 

Hades was little more than a ball of carnal desire and unrestrained hunger as his beloved returned at last, leaning over him with an apologetic smile. “I know you’re going to make me pay for that,” she whispered, “but I at least had some fun. I hope I didn’t go too far.” She bit her lip, and a moment later he felt the pressure in his chest begin to ease. 

The stake fell with a clatter to the floor, and he was on her.

[FN] began to shriek, but he clamped his hand over her mouth, using his strength to pin her head to the floor. She began to thrash, but he wriggled his way between her legs, watching her twist, one thought reverberating in his head: _Mine._

It took a few wild, blind thrusts to find her entrance but when he did he hilted himself completely, letting out a loose growl and sinking his teeth into her neck. He didn’t last long, only a few more thrusts and he spent himself, the wild tension of the hours she kept him as a plaything rushing out of him. 

He remained inside her and continued to drink until at last his sanity returned, and he immediately tore his fangs free of her again. “Zodiark, [FN],” Hades whispered, running his hands down the side of her body. 

Her hips and thighs were bruised from how roughly he had ridden her, and her skin was deathly pale from loss of blood. Her breathing was shallow and labored, and despite her smile, her eyes were glassy when she looked at him. “Hope you aren’t… too angry,” she whispered.

“I drank a bit too much, I fear,” Hades whispered to her as he licked his way over the wound in her neck. “You’ll be all right, but you’ll probably sleep the whole way back to Ioannina.”

Nodding slightly, [FN] reached for him, and he pressed his lips into her palm. “Love you, Hades.”

“And I love you, [FN],” he said as she drifted off to sleep. It was only after her breathing evened and she was quite unconscious that he added. “More than I should.”

* * *

[FN] woke to a rumble underneath her. She was wearing a corset again, for the first time in months. The women of Hades’s Amaurot didn’t wear them at all, and she’d quickly picked up the fashion, which made the undergarment all the more noticeable on its return. She realized she was hearing voices, and gave her head a moment to clear and bring them into focus.

“- had a lovely time, but I fear I drank too deeply on our last day and she has been sleeping since.” It was Hades (Solus around the others, she amended) who held her, and the rumble was his voice echoing through his chest and into hers.

“You should be more careful.” Rynn’s voice was reproachful, but Magnai laughed.

“It’s not like he doesn’t have a plan if he does go too far to turn back. He’ll just turn her then,” Lord Oronir said with a laugh.

“I am quite sure our newly appointed Lady Heathfield wouldst prefer to avoid that course,” Urianger interjected, and at that, [FN] lifted her head. 

“I really wouldn’t mind too much,” she said, and was greeted by a chorus of greetings and wide smiles from her friends. Solus was even forced to put her down so that she could receive a surprising round of hugs that ranged from gentle form Sumire to rib-crushing from Magnai.

Amadea looked [FN] over and nodded. “I approve, Solus. Summers on the Mediterranean quite agree with her.”

“And thou art making thy plans for matrimony official!” Urianger enthused, gesturing to her hand. “When wilt our vaunted Count Galvus do right by thee at last?”

Though they hadn’t really discussed a date, [FN] already knew her answer. “Late February, or early March, I think. “I’d like to have it done properly before we return to Dikorfo again next summer.”

“Thou couldst always convert to Catholicism,” the priest offered with a playful smile.

[FN] sighed regretfully. “I would, but you know what they say about being unequally yoked. Besides, if I were to attempt to take Solus into one of those beautiful Cathedrals he’d set the place on fire purely by his presence.”

That comment brought peals of laughter from everyone as they boarded the train, and soon [FN] found herself dragged away from Solus by Rynn and Sumire - who seemed to want to plan the wedding right at that moment - leaving him alone with Urianger, Magnai, and Sidurgu.

Magnai grinned wickedly, looming over Solus. “Say it.”

“Say what?” he asked smoothly as he immediately poured himself brandy in their private car.

“Say that the lady is thy Nhaama,” Urianger said, smirking.

Sidurgu watched the interplay with a bemused smile. “I was under the impression that was quite established already?”

Shaking his head, Magnai turned to Sid. “The old man insists that she’s not for some reason.”

“Because she _isn’t,”_ he hissed, and swallowed the brandy.

It drowned out the familiar taste of lies.


	23. The Price of His Hubris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head with Hien and Midori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer's power supply died so I am posting this from my phone. God help me.

Sumire tugged the white lace tighter around [FN]’s middle, giggling excitedly. “White dresses have become all the rage the past few years, since your British queen wore one at her wedding. I think it’s your color.”

[FN] blushed and ran her fingers over the fabric as they stood in the Viennese atelier’s shop after dark - held open at the request of Lady Heathfield to accommodate her schedule. The attendants fluttered around, eager to please the wealthy bride-to-be. “Do you think Solus will like it?” she asked quietly.

Amadea, perched on a stool in the corner, clicked her tongue. “Solus would much prefer to drag you into the nearest cave and make a few grunting noises at you.”

Rynn snickered. “He’s not a cave-man, Amadea.”

“He literally is,” the Venetian countered. A mischievous giggle made the other women blush, and the eldest and youngest among them exchanged a grin. “You know that better than any of us by now, I’d wager. But yes, I think he would like the lace, [FN]. Solus has always appreciated fine things - he will like anything so long as it is well-made.”

They continued chattering, selecting fabrics and notions, until Rynn suddenly froze, her head snapping up, and she turned to the door.

“What is it?” Sumire asked, practically drowning in a white voile veil with [FN].

“Someone’s coming,” Rynn whispered, and instinctively moved between the two youngest girls and the door. Amadea joined her, eyes narrowed, and with a snap of her fingers, the attendants scurried into the back.

The bell above the door chimed, and a female figure entered, swathed in blue silk. She looked up, and tilted her head towards the other women. “Good evening.”

In unison, [FN] and Amadea said, “Midori.”

Rynn’s head shifted imperceptibly. “You’re Midori?” Behind her, Sumire had slipped out from under the veil and already cut open her palm, murmuring the simple incantations Sidurgu had taught her.

“Peace,” Midori said, raising one hand. “I only came to speak with the Solus’s soulmate.”

Sumire’s eyes slid to one side, regarding [FN], but she shook her head. “I told you before, I’m not his soulmate.”

“And I told you before,” the strange woman countered, “the Angel of Truth is a master of deception.”

Amadea’s brow furrowed. “You were not invited here.”

“I’d gotten that impression,” Midori laughed. “Minfilia most especially will be sad to have missed it, this exercise in futility.”

Confusion rippled through the others, but Amadea’s back went ramrod straight, and one hand went behind her back, pulling a needle-thin dagger from the lacing of her bodice. 

“As I said,” Midori grumbled, _”Peace,_ I only wish to talk.”

“Then talk,” Sumire said, a massive sword appearing in one hand.

Midori rolled her eyes, then strode forward, towards [FN]. The other three closed ranks, blocking her from coming closer. “Talk,” Rynn said irritably, “not approach.”

Finally, Midori sighed. “I came to tell you, [FN], that I bear you no ill will for what is to come. I do not need to forgive you, for there is nothing to forgive.”

[FN] frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I am.” The Japanese woman did not blink. “You and I approach that point at which all premonitions cease. I do not blame you, nor, if he knew what I do, would Hien. I just wanted you to know you do not need to cling to guilt. None of what is to pass is your fault.”

“What?” [FN] straightened, pulling the veil off her own hair. “What’s going to happen?”

The others stepped aside, letting Midori approach at last, and she did, letting her eyes linger on [FN]’s face for a few moments, then she took her hands, lifting them to her lips. “I told you. The point at which all premonitions cease. Emet-Selch must pay the price of his hubris.” A twist of her lips, a quirk of knowing, and Midori dropped her hands. “Just as Hades was forced to return Persephone to Demeter.”

As she turned away at last, Midori stopped by Sumire, peering at her. “I hear the words around her head, the weeping and the praying, _’Pax huic dómui,’_ he will say. _’Asspérges me, Dómi-”_

Amadea’s hand whipped out, her fingers bent to make her elegantly lacquered fingernails vicious claws that dug into Midori’s cheek. “Don’t bring such ill luck on her, woman, or I will truss you up and have Magnai send your head back to that errant bodyguard.”

“It is not ill luck,” Midori said, the great bone-deep gashes in her face already knitting back together into pristine skin. “It is what will be. One cannot stop the hand of fate.” Still, she bowed and made her way out, taking the eerie stillness with her.

The moment the door was shut behind her, Amadea turned. “Rynn, go back and tell Magnai what has happened. [FN], you will apologize to the atelier’s attendants and ask to come back during the day. You are not to leave Solus’s side unless the sun is up. Understand?”

[FN] was focused instead on Sumire, who was shaking, her sword in a white-knuckled grip. “Did she…”

Amadea nodded gravely as Rynn was already out the door, moving with speed that gave her away as inhuman. “That damnable witch. And to mention Minfilia in front of [FN]...” Amadea spat on the floor and made a strange sign in front of her face while hissing in Italian.

“I don’t understand,” [FN] said. “What’s going on?”

“Last Rites,” Sumire whispered. “She started saying the prayers for Last Rites. It’s a sacrament for one about to die.”

“And bad luck besides. Plus, she’s not even Catholic! How dare that upjumped little -” Amadea was still pacing angrily, switching between languages with every step when the door burst open, and Magnai came in, his face strained. Sidurgu pushed past him, moving straight to Sumire, and Urianger was only a few steps behind. [FN] stood quietly, listening as everyone lapsed out of English, reassuring their other halves they were all right. But across from her in the doorway, Solus stood, his jaw working with a thousand unspoken expletives as he stared at her.

* * *

Solus insisted on carrying [FN] back to the White Rose, anger and fear prevalent on his face and in the way he held her, his fingertips pressed into her skin so roughly she knew she’d be bruised. She said nothing, pressing her forehead to his neck and letting him decide what, if anything, needed to be said.

Before them, Urianger came to a stop, and said, _“Kyrie Eléison…”_

[FN] lifted her head slightly, and Solus moved past the scholar without a word. Before them, one of the bridges across the Donaukanal was half-destroyed, fragments of statues and shattered stonework littering the ground. The next bridge, and the next, and the next were all shattered in like manner, until the last, just before the White Rose. 

Still, Solus said nothing, and though the others called out, he strode past them, carrying [FN] up to their room without sparing them a glance. His eyes were fixed on some distant horizon, letting his mind process whatever he was thinking, so she said nothing, either.

Once inside their room, he shut and locked the door, then began a systematic search of every closet and corner, making sure they were alone.

“Solus,” [FN] began.

“You are not to leave my side,” he ordered as he shut and locked the windows.

“I’m not going to be a priso-”

“You are not to leave this room without informing Magnai and myself.” His voice was sharp, and he ignored her argument.

She gasped. “You have no ri-”

_”I have **every** right!”_ Solus roared at her, finally facing her. “I have seven million _rights_ where you’re concerned!”

Pain bloomed along [FN]’s forearm, and her eyes widened at her own hand, splayed wide against the side of Solus’s cheek where she had slapped him. Intended to slap him - maybe that would be a better way to phrase it. His face had not even registered the strike but had still stopped her hand like a wall, cold and unmoving. But his eyes - something flickered in them, started to burn in a way that made her spine puddle at the small of her back.

“You struck me,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “I was being cruel and you _struck_ me.”

She lowered her still-stinging arm and brought it against her chest as she licked her lips. “I did.”

“You stood up for yourself against _me.”_ His hands were reaching for her and his lips were parted, revealing his fangs.

“I will not have you treat me like anything less than your equal,” she replied, jerking her chin up. 

Solus’s arms went around her, pulling her close as he traced kisses along her cheekbones, her jaw, her neck. “Forgive me, [FN].” He claimed her lips, and she felt his fangs scrape open her inner lip so he could taste her blood while they were thus entwined. “Forgive me, my dear,” he whispered into her panting when they parted so she could breath.

“What am I forgiving you for?” 

“What?” he asked, still staring at her lips.

She pressed closer to him and felt his hands slide over her back, tightening his grip. “If you want forgiveness, you must show you understand what you’ve done and how you will make it up to me.”

He lowered his face to her neck, and she could feel his lips move along her skin as he said, “I deeply regret treating you as anything less than what you are.” His voice was hollow, distant, and full of regret. “You deserve to be treated with the respect you are _owed,_ [FN], and of all people I know what that is.”

His lips moved down along her collarbone to her chest as he bent further. “I promise, I will resolve to be better. I will not keep you prisoner. You were -” he gasped and pressed a kiss into her clavicle. “You are quite correct. Please, let us compromise on how to keep you safe.”

“Compromise,” [FN] whispered. “That sounds good.”

It was well past sunrise - _more than two hours past sunrise_ as per her agreement with Solus - when [FN] stepped out of the White Rose and onto the street the next day. As she glanced down the thoroughfare, she noticed fabric had been pinned up to hide the shattered bridges, like great drapes hiding the destruction. The upper class tourists in this neighborhood would not suffer to have their sensibilities offended in such a manner as to be forced to see debris.

Molly followed a moment later, another part of the agreement: she could not go anywhere unescorted. Though it irked her at first, she had relented once he included her maid. “Where shall we go today, my lady?”

[FN]’s stomach rumbled and she sighed. “Breakfast first, I think. Then I’d like to head to the atelier and see about getting some new pieces to wear before the wedding. They had a lovely red organza that I think will give Solus pause.”

Though her eyes darted heavensward, Molly said nothing as she followed [FN] down the crowded boulevard. They took breakfast in a small cafe before making their way back to the atelier. Now with more of the shops along the street open, people seemed to seethe in an ever-flowing mass between the doorways, and [FN] found every errand took far longer than she intended. Still, she could get much done before she had to return - two hours before sunset, as promised - even fighting the crowds.

* * *

“At last…” Hien said, watching as Solus’s woman stepped out of a jewelry store, her cheeks flushed from a day spent shopping.

“Is that her?” one of the templars asked.

Another nodded. “Yep. Sterling’s girl.”

Hien snorted. “Hardly.”

“But his last report sai-”

“Sterling was a fool,” Midori stepped up to his side at the window and gave a little sigh as she let her power wash over her. “He saw what he wanted to see, and heard what he wanted to hear. But that mortal girl is the one who will make Solus willingly sacrifice his life.”

“So the vampire loves her?”

His soulmate flinched at the use of the word, and he put a hand on her shoulder before saying, “He is incapable of real love, but he likes to delude himself. He will make a great performance of devotion to further his own fantasy of love. But he will do what we require.”

The Templars murmured amongst themselves until one asked, “And all we have to do is deliver this message to the White Rose?”

Hien glanced at Midori, and she nodded. “Just give that to the hotel staff, and get out of the area.”

* * *

[FN] had sent Molly back to the jewelers for a pair of earrings she’d seen and initially decided against. They were gorgeous sapphires that really did complement her coloring, but she had a moment of temporary weakness - some echo of her past reminding her she didn’t deserve things - and had left the store without them. It was only as they’d sat for tea that she realized if Solus ever found out he’d come for the earrings himself - a thought that made her cheeks flush unexpectedly. 

Thus, Molly had agreed to pop back over and add them to the tab while she waited for the tea and cakes from the small cafe they had selected. A strange happiness settled over her as she traced her finger along her small ledger, tallying the day’s purchases. A year ago she would have lashed out at herself emotionally for any one of these items. She was proud to have made it all the way to the earrings before her fears and anxieties took over and prevented her from being selfish. After all, she was a wealthy young woman who was about to be married to a wealthy man and had no responsibilities save those to herself - shouldn’t she enjoy it?

While ruminating in her thoughts, a sudden pall came over [FN] and a chill ran down her spine. She straightened her back and glanced around. It seemed as though nothing was out of place, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. 

She clutched the turquoise taffeta of her skirt and stood. Forget tea, she needed to find Molly and get back to the hotel. Shoving her ledger into her small handbag, she made her way out of the patio area and back onto the sidewalk. 

[FN] glanced toward the White Rose at the head of the street, it’s opulence bathed in sunlight while the rest of the street was shadowed by the makeshift drapes to hide the bridges. Though it had been nothing but a curiosity earlier, her mind was screaming at the darkness now. Sunlight was safety - sunlight was the only true protection she had. Just like that, her instincts clicked into place, and she knew what had happened to the bridges last night. 

All it took was one glance in the other direction, and her eyes met Hien’s.

How many hotel rooms and train cars, where curtains had been Solus’s only protection? He had told her before - it was only direct sunlight that was a threat. It may be midafternoon, but she wasn’t safe. Not from him.

Her feet were moving before her head had fully whipped back around, and she threw her elbows out, pushing her way through the crowd. A few people cried out in anger or alarm, but she paid them no mind, the feeling of Hien’s eyes on her back spurring her onward. 

As [FN] passed the first set of building high drapes, she glanced back over her shoulder to see him strolling unconcerned, a victorious smile already gracing her lips. She turned her gaze back toward the hotel and tried to move faster, but the crowd still slowed her immeasurably. 

Hien was toying with her and she knew it. He could have killed her the moment she saw him - before, even - but he wanted her to be terrified, and she hated it. Forcing her mind to calm as she moved, she opened her handbag. There was one way to clear the street, at least.

[FN]’s gunshot echoed off the marble facades of all the buildings along the boulevard like high-pitched thunder, and people started screaming and running away from her. She didn’t hesitate. Gun in hand, she bolted towards the hotel, towards the door opening and Solus - oh, heaven help them all, it was Solus - trying to rush out into the sunlight in front of the hotel.

_Of course,_ [FN] realized in a moment of clarity. _This way he has to watch him kill me, while powerless to stop it._ It didn’t occur to her that Solus might sacrifice himself to save her - not until Magnai and Sidurgu’s arms shot in front of his chest and hauled him back in. 

The sound Solus made at the realization that they would not permit him to try to save her was terrifying. She had heard him groan and roar a thousand ways in their months together, but nothing sent fear through her like this. Hearing it, she could believe he was every bit the monster Sterling had tried to convince her he was, but she still ran to him.

Throwing herself the last few steps to fall into the sunlit street, [FN] couldn’t believe she’d actually made it. She was safe. Her body shook with relief and she pushed herself to her feet, but when she met Solus’s eyes there was no relief there. Before she could stop herself, [FN] turned to see Hien. 

With a smirk, he grabbed a large sheet of wood from a stack set aside for bridge repair and threw it in her direction. [FN] stood frozen as he jumped, the arc of his own path through the sunlight following the board perfectly, keeping her safe from harm. She wanted to scream, to vomit, to vanish - a thousand things, _anything_ to get away from him, but her death was written plainly on his face.

An enraged cry and shattering glass drew [FN]’s eyes upward in time for her to see Sumire launch herself from a second floor window. For one glorious heartbeat, she saw who Sumire had been in life, in the sunlight valleys of Bavaria - beautiful, unbroken, and uncompromising. Then the sunlight affected her undead skin and she ignited like kindling doused in kerosene, a furious falling star that slammed into Hien. Sumire’s sword caught him in the throat, tearing his head off like he was naught but a dandelion in the hands of a child even as her legs gave out and she fell to the street beside him, both their bodies crumbling to ash in an instant.

[FN] blinked in confusion at the scene before her - a dark smudge, already vanishing in the wind where only a few moments before her friend had been. All that remained of Hien was his sword, glittering in the sunlight as if it were merely forgotten.

“Please,” Midori whispered from the shadows across the street.

Shoving her gun in her purse, [FN] stood. “It’s just a step. Take it.”

“I can’t,” the other woman’s eyes lowered. “I am afraid.”

“You knew this would happen.” Behind her, [FN] could hear the voices of her friends, but they were distant and unintelligible right now.

Midori nodded. “I did.”

“Then why did you let him die?” [FN] took a few steps forward and picked up Hien’s katana, her eyes travelling along its length. 

“Hien exalted our suffering to fuel his anger,” she whispered. “I just wanted it to end. He would not let me.”

“How do I die?” [FN] whispered, tears running unchecked down her face. 

“I don’t know.” Midori’s voice held the hum of honesty. “All my visions end here. They have always ended here.”

[FN] looked down at Hien’s sword. “I do not know what prayers your people offer for the dead, so you will have to accept mine.” She reached out and clutched the front of the other woman’s dress as she relaxed into her grip. “You cost me my friend. May God have mercy on your soul, for I have none to give.” With a heave, she pulled Midori into the sunlight.


	24. All Our Stolen Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clutch mourns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to get a chapter out this weekend after my PSU decided to die, but I managed to knock this one out. I hope you like it!
> 
> Note: very minor [ex]. Sex is mentioned, but it's not explicit.

Midori's ashes slipped through [FN]'s fingers as sound came back to her.

The wracking sobs pouring out of her chest.

The shrieks and cries of the crowd, mindlessly fleeing the gunshot.

The wind along the boulevard, howling in grief and rage.

It wasn't the wind. It was Sidurgu.

[FN] turned back towards the hotel to find Douglas almost upon her. The Oronir's groom dragged her bodily into the hotel while her mind was still trying to find some surface to cling to. Magnai stood a few feet from Sidurgu who sat, openly weeping.

"How do you want to do this?" Oronir asked.

“It is not yet the time for that,” Urianger interrupted. “We must first see to the funerary rites, and I would ask that Sidurgu consent to recount both his life, and what he knew of Sumire’s before that, so that it might be saved for posterity.”

“I-” Sidurgu began, then resignation finally took over. He stood, his tears drying as he composed himself. “I will confer with Father Augurelt, then we will see to Sumire and I’s funeral, then I will meet the sun, if Lady Heathfield consents.”

The others turned to look at her, and [FN] stepped back. “What do you mean? Why… Why do you need _my_ consent?”

“We will not let him die alone,” Solus said, coming up to her side. Douglas had the good sense to make himself scarce as her lover took her in his arms. “Other methods, one of us could be there, to witness. But the sun…” His grip was tight. “Only you can do that for him.”

Sidurgu and [FN] regarded each other for a moment, then she dipped her head in acceptance. “I will do what I can.”

A collective sigh seemed to pass through the hotel, and the others visibly relaxed. Rynn and Amadea exited a back room. “They will not remember anything,” Rynn said, her face ruddy. “They’ll sleep a day or two - but we should probably leave after sunset tomorrow.”

Magnai moved to her side, gripping her arms tightly. “Sidurgu is going to speak with Urianger.”

Amadea glanced to her husband, who nodded once, his lips set in a thin line. “He hath agreed, so I will hear his words and then we shall see to the rest.”

As the others discussed organization and plans, [FN] felt her focus slip away, running the last few minutes over in her head. Sumire had… had _died_ to protect her - had condemned her soulmate to death, to protect _her._ Even barring that, [FN] had killed another person. That was two now. Sterling and Midori. She stared down at her hands as if they were alien to her, but she could not blot out the memories of how it felt to kill them.

Sterling had been grim resignation. He had wanted to hurt Solus, and she could not forgive that. Her mind fixated on that moment when she couldn’t turn back. When the pressure of the metal trigger gave way to her squeezing finger, snapping back into place and filling the tiny cabin on the train with light and thunder. It had been so easy, and so easy to _justify._

Midori was another matter. Midori had posed no threat, made no move to attack. Midori had merely allowed, through inaction, Sumire and her own soulmate to die. Any one of the others could have killed her - she probably would have waited until sunset for them to come out and do it. But _[FN]_ hadn’t been content to wait. She had pulled her into the sunlight, had held her to prevent her escaping until all that was left of the woman who could see the future was black ash, just like Hien and Midori. The only evidence of their existence now was the long, delicate sword Hien had left behind.

Two people had ceased to exist because she willed it. Sterling’s words from her nightmare months ago thrummed in her mind: _”It won’t just be my death at your hands.”_ Had she known, then, what she would become? He had only been accusing her of deaths to feed herself once she had turned. But what of the people she killed without that excuse? Was she as monstrous as -

Amadea murmured something, and Solus’s arms tightened around her. “[FN],” he whispered in her ear. “[FN], it’s all right. Let’s go upstairs. You should rest. And they need some privacy.”

“I…” She looked up. Rynn and Magnai were gone, and Amadea stood between her and Urianger, who was sitting on a small settee beside Sidurgu. “Right, of course.”

Solus’s hand was on the small of her back, and he guided her gently toward the stairs. As they ascended, she heard Sidurgu begin.

“Her name was Veilchen, and she was most beautiful when she was furious. Even when she was furious with me.”

* * *

Solus leaned his head against the door, taking a moment to focus. This afternoon had been close - much too close - and he’d nearly lost [FN]. 

It was lucky for Hien, he decided, that both he and Midori had perished. Had they yet lived, Solus knew without question he would have hunted them down and killed them. Slowly. Painfully. He would have introduced them to kinds of torture only two hundred millenia could teach. Even though [FN] had survived, they had threatened her - even that was unacceptable.

After everything that had happened today, it would be at least a century before they could return to Vienna - until the events of today passed out of living memory completely and into the annals of urban legend long forgotten. Worse - he was reasonably sure now that Hien was working with the Templars. The two men who had brought the message from “Thancred” - a message that didn’t even bear the code words Thancred was so fond of using - had lingered in the bar until the commotion, and had bolted for the exit. He would have pursued, but…

[FN] stood, as still and stony silent as she had been downstairs, staring at her hands. He could tell she was not really present in this moment, her mind and heart far away from herself, protecting herself from all that had occurred. 

“[FN],” he whispered softly. 

Something in her eyes stirred, and she looked up at him, blinking in surprise. “Hades.” She said his name like a prayer, a cry for help. He had no heart to refuse her. She was leaning into him before he’d even tightened his grip, her lips parted at the barest brush of his own. Though she hadn’t wept, he could taste the tears in her mouth when he kissed her and feel the sobs she would not release in the way she trembled at his touch.

He undressed her slowly, letting each layer fall to the floor at their feet while his lips traced his own prayers along her neck and shoulders - soul-crushing gratitude to long-forgotten gods that [FN] was unharmed. All the rest, and much more besides, could be borne. The loss of his - Hades swallowed, and dutifully redirected his mind from that train of thought. The loss of [FN] was absolutely unacceptable.

He didn’t fight as she started undressing him - trembling fingers moving over the buttons of his waistcoat and fiddling with his cuffs. The first sob came at last when she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and collapsed against his chest. In silence he pulled her into the bed, letting her curl against his chest and weep. 

When at last she had control of her breathing, he cupped her face in both hands and tilted it up to his own, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “[FN],” he said again. “My beloved, all is well. You are safe, you’re with me. Nothing can harm you here.”

Tilting her head back, [FN]’s eyes moved over his face as if more was written there than his own tired features. Her words surprised him. “You chose me.”

“What?” Hades asked, confusion evident on his face.

“When -” Her voice trembled and she took a moment to breathe and center herself. “When I was outside the hotel. I looked up and I saw you there, at the door. I thought _that_ was Hien’s game - that he was going to force you to stand there and watch him murder me in the street because of the sun.” [FN] shifted, pressing herself up against him. “Then I saw Magnai and Sidurgu had to _hold you back._ Were you really going to run out into the sunlight to save me from him? It would have killed you.”

Hades closed his eyes and buried his face in her shoulder, remembering that moment. Pulling open the front door of the hotel and seeing the afternoon sun illuminating the street. [FN] running towards the hotel as fast as she could. That half-a-flicker of relief as she fell into the sunlight. Then the sickening dread as he saw Hien stop beside the stack of wood. 

He clutched her tighter as the memory began to replay, over and again in his mind - inescapable and terrifying. He had been sure the curse had come to call at last, and he had to choose - sacrifice himself, or lose her. Minfilia would laugh at him, he supposed, with how easy the choice had been in the end. The realization [FN] was still waiting for an answer made him stir. 

“Yes.” Hades hated how childish his voice sounded in the quiet of the bed.

“Idiot,” [FN] growled, but she kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He knew better than to argue. Most others would have called him an idiot for this as well, but he found he no longer cared. They had both made their choices, would live and die by them - and just now he was tired of the dance.

[FN] didn’t fight when he pushed her onto her back. She parted her legs without complaint, clinging to him as he made love to her in a desperate bid to release the awful tension of that moment, when he had been so very sure he would never hold her like this again.

* * *

Solus stood at the head of the table and lifted his glass of wine. “To Veilchen, called Sumire - the youngest of us, who in less than a year of her eternity: won the heart of a Prince of the Mongolians, travelled far and saved many, and earned the eternal gratitude of one of the First Brood.”

The others raised their glasses, and nodded. “To Sumire.”

After they’d all taken a sip, he raised his glass again. “To Sidurgu, of the Orl - child of my brother, Nabriales, who in his time turned the tide of many wars, travelled to many corners of this world, and found his soulmate, bringing her into the fold.”

“To Sidurgu,” they chorused, and took another drink. 

Magnai began speaking - [FN] didn’t understand the language, but soon he had the other men in stitches. They began to speak quickly, and she jolted when she felt Rynn’s hand on her shoulder. “They’ll be like this until dawn,” she whispered, and tugged [FN] out of her chair.

They walked together into the lobby, where Amadea had returned from whatever errand she had run. As she set the bags on the table, she shrugged. “I couldn’t remember how much was normal for a mortal woman to eat, and from what I have heard, you skipped your afternoon tea and a proper supper…” The Venetian’s voice trailed off as she set dish after dish in front of [FN], but the girl was lost in thought.

“Tea… wait!” She looked up at Rynn and Amadea. _”Where’s Molly?”_

“Molly?” Rynn’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lady’s maid?”

“Yes, Molly. She was supposed to meet me for tea, and then I sent her back to the jeweler’s for a pair of earrings, then while I waited, Hien…” [FN] stood and began to pace. “Lord God in Heaven, she could be anywhere! What if she’s been hurt, or -” 

Amadea straightened. “I will find her.”

“She could be anywhere in the city,” Rynn hissed. “And Urianger will be furious if you go out now.”

“Better I go look than any of them. Magnai needs Urianger more than I do at the moment. I will be back before…” Amadea glanced at [FN]. “Before the end. Don’t worry.”

The Venetian woman lifted the dark fabric draped over her arms to cover her hair, then headed for the door. “Be careful,” [FN] called after her. “I’ve lost enough friends, thank you.”

Amadea smiled slightly. “Eat.” Then she was gone into the night.

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten when Amadea returned, covered in blood. Molly followed close behind, and [FN] jumped to her feet and rushed to her side. “What happened?”

“That is an excellent question,” Solus asked, as he and the other men entered the front room to investigate the commotion. 

“Templars,” Amadea said, giving them a dark look. “Hien had friends.”

Solus merely closed his eyes, but Magnai swore. “Fucking fanatics.”

Urianger brushed his hand over Amadea’s hair and said nothing, but she leaned into the touch, which seemed to ease the anxious lines in his face.

“It is almost dawn,” Sidurgu said quietly. “I would like some privacy to say my goodbyes to Magnai and Solus.”

[FN] glanced at Solus, but the answering lift of his eyebrow was sign enough that he wasn’t sure why. Still, he walked out to the small garden behind the hotel with Sidurgu, leaving the others to tend to Molly.

* * *

Sidurgu took a seat on a small bench that faced east, with a breathtaking view of the Danube and the city beyond that. The midnight blue of the night sky was already taking on a purple cast in the distance, and Solus shifted as he glanced down at the pale man. “You wished to speak with me?”

“I did,” he said quietly. “You have told us all that [FN] is not your Nhaama.”

“Yes.” 

“You know it took me a thousand years to find my Sumire?” Sidurgu laughed. “And in the end I only got six months with her.” He looked down at his folded hands, rubbing one thumb across the other. “She was worth the wait. Even if it had only been a day - just that one night by the lake, that single kiss - she was worth the wait.” Sid’s gaze slid from the horizon to Solus. “It is the same with your [FN], isn’t it?”

There was no safe response to the question, so Solus said nothing, merely waited, his hands folded behind his back. 

“She is your Nhaama, you know. For all that you lie to us and say she’s not. I have seen the traces of Minfilia’s magic on her, and it took all of Magnai and I’s strength to hold you back when you saw her dying. You would not throw yourself into the sunlight for anyone less. Nor would I.” He crossed his long legs and tilted his head. “If you will not answer truthfully, it is no matter to me. Soon enough I will pass beyond such liminal concerns into whatever waits in the afterlife.”

“And what if it is nothing?” Solus found himself unable to resist the question. “What if you die and that is the end?”

“Then it is well enough. That is the true definition of one’s Nhaama. Your own soul’s absolute refusal to remain in a world without them in it. I have only waited these hours because I knew Sumire would want me to see things put to rest properly. But I am pleased to know I don’t have to wait much longer.” Sidurgu laughed. “If there is something on the other side, then she is there waiting for me, and I’ll gladly greet the sun to spend whatever moments wait with her. When it is one’s Nhaama, it’s a moot point. You are together, or you are dead. It is easy.”

“I suppose you are correct on that account,” Solus admitted. 

Sidurgu nodded. “I am. Go ahead and send Magnai out. I would have words with him as well.”

As Solus walked back into the hotel, he nodded to Magnai, who stood by the door. His child slipped out without a word, leaving him alone with [FN].

“Magnai said all I need to do is sit with him, maybe talk a little bit,” she said. Her eyes were searching as she looked up at him, and he could see her fear in every twitch. “What if he - if he does what Urianger did, when he was injured.”

Solus shook his head. “It will be too quick for that, don’t worry.”

[FN] looked down at her hands. “I’ve killed two people now.” Her voice was quiet, nearly drowned out by the song of those birds waking up to greet the sun. “But that’s just going to be a drop in the ocean if I remain with you, isn’t it?”

He nodded, just once, though fear gripped his heart at her use of ‘if.’

“Ten million people, at the minimum, give or take a few hundred thousand. That’s what the math bears out to.” She laughed a little dizzily. “That’s every soul in London. Three times over.”

“It is.” There would be no use in lying to her about this - if he kept her, she would learn the truth regardless.

“Does it get easier? Do you stop thinking about it? Do you… forget?”

“Eventually, the faces bleed together. You stop seeing them as anything more than a means to an end. Whether that end is victory in a war, by which you might spare many _more_ lives, gathering information, anger, or vindictiveness, or merely because it is required for survival. To be what we are, you take death into your hands and use it as an instrument - just the same as I might use a piano.” Solus watched her for a reaction, but she gave none save lifting her head to meet his eyes.

They stared at each other for a long time, until Magnai came back in and told [FN] it was time.

* * *

“It’s ironic, me being here,” [FN] said as she sat beside Sidurgu. “Before I killed him, Sterling told me that if Solus turned me, he would happily watch the sunrise with me in a rose garden back in England, to spare me the pain.”

Her companion laughed. “How did that go over for him?”

“I shot him in the face after he staked Solus.”

Sidurgu barked a laugh. “You are like my Sumire, an angry little thing. That must be why she liked you.”

“I’m sorry,” [FN] said. Guilt was clawing at her throat. “I would have let him kill me further back, if I’d known what she was going to do.”

He shook his head and took one of her hands. “My Sumire valued you, [FN]. Do not denigrate her choice by implying you are not worth it. She died the same way she lived - breathtaking in her ferocity. Sumire killed an opponent with centuries more experience in a single blow, so mighty was my Nhaama, and she died to protect the bride of one of the First Brood. She died to protect her friend. There is no more honor to be had amongst our kind than that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, as the violet clouds began to turn a soft pink, until [FN] said, “I am going to be one of you in a few years. Any advice you would pass on?”

Sidurgu sucked thoughtfully on his teeth. “You are the beloved of Emet-Selch, of the First Brood. That’s like royalty amongst us. But even once you are turned, you will not be without enemies. You will _never_ be without enemies, truth be told. So decide now how you will defend against them. Solus seems content to push you behind him and fend off all the blows that come.” He chuckled. “We can all see how well that’s working out.”

He stretched his arms and legs in a boyish fashion, rocking back on the bench. “If I thought you would be interested, I would turn you myself - give you the magic of Nabriales’s line. But there will be no one who knows enough to teach you. My Sire is far from here, wandering with his Nhaama. I know of few others, and none are near to hand.”

She laughed. “I don’t know that Solus would forgive me if I let someone else have the honor.”

“That one would forgive you _anything,_ [FN],” Sidurgu said quietly. “You know he’s lying, don’t you?”

[FN] squeezed his hand. “The Angel of Truth is a master of deception.”

“And there’s no one he deceives more than himself,” Sidurgu agreed, then glanced to the horizon. “Any moment now, I think.”

“Will you give her my love?” 

“I will. Though do me a favor, and do not come to check. Not until all the things that _are_ pass away.” He twined his fingers with hers. “My Sumire died to save you. Make sure she gets as much value as possible for all our stolen years.”

[FN] bowed her head, and felt him press his lips to the crown of her hair. There was heat, and smoke, and when she opened her eyes, the last few flakes of ash were blown out of her hands on the morning breeze.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and cried quietly into her skirts until she felt there were no more tears to shed that day. By then the sun was well clear of the horizon, and the late summer heat made her hair stick to her neck. She stood and looked out at the city skyline and the river once more, then headed into the still empty hotel.

Magnai waited for her, at the far end of the lobby, far out of the sunlight, his eyes dark.

“It’s done,” she told him, and he stood. 

“I owe you a great debt,” Magnai said, his words stilted with ritual and grief. “You saw to my duty in my stead, for one of my oldest friends, though you had no duty to him and are not of our people. What would you have?”

Some distant part of her said to demure, that she didn’t deserve anything for so little effort - but Magnai had something she wanted.

“Teach me to defend myself,” [FN] said, looking up into his face. “That way no one else has to sacrifice themselves for me again.”


	25. The Favor of Poets or Kings [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnai trains [FN], [FN] toys with Solus, and they all return to Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's smut, friends.

Solus’s fingernails dug into the upholstery of his seat, his eyes narrowed as Magnai circled [FN]. He wanted to tell her this idea of hers was ridiculous - that he would always be there to defend her, there was no need for her to receive attention from _any_ man but himself - but the incident with Hien, now three days past, cast a pall over his objections.

He could not deny that being his lover was dangerous, even without taking into account her mortality. Magnai _was_ one of the best warriors he knew, and what the man could teach could only be to her benefit. But Solus could not stop the possessiveness welling up inside him, the urge to put himself between [FN] and his child.

“You will never get by with brute strength against our kind, even after you are one of us,” Magnai finally said, both of them swaying slightly as the train rattled towards Paris. “But you’ll be rather quick, and you have the instincts for it.”

[FN]’s eyes tracked him as he moved back and forth in front of her, but when he passed between her and Solus, her eyes lingered on her fiancé for a fraction of a second before snapping back to Magnai, only to find him not where he’d been. Instead, the Mongolian was behind her, and had her by the throat. 

“You are too easily distracted by your lover, [FN],” Magnai said quietly. “I could have killed you in an instant.”

“Really, Magnai,” Solus said, “You can hardly fault her for paying attention to her lover. You know Rynn’s gaze lingers on you the same way.”

Magnai’s answering smile was sharp. “Rynn is my _Nhaama.”_

“Enough,” [FN] said. “Magnai, stop baiting him. Solus, you said you wouldn’t interrupt us.”

“No, no,” Magnai chuckled. “I have to commend him for his restraint. If another were this close to Rynn I wouldn’t have let him get this close in the first place.”

“But as you said,” [FN] replied, shaking her head, “Rynn is your Nhaama.”

The two of them giggled and Solus rolled his eyes. “Either teach her or don’t. If you’re not going to be useful, I’ve got much better ways to spend the time in mind.”

Magnai rolled his eyes as well. “Anyway, as we were discussing, I recommend weaponry that takes advantage of your speed. The revolver is a good start - a weapon that relies purely on your speed and not upon any brute strength or muscle memory. Its use is limited, however, as while it can slow us down, that’s only in the short term, and mostly through the shock of a mortal fighting back than anything else. For the most part, until you’re like us, you’ll have to rely on Solus to defend you. After that, though…” 

“After that, you will remember giving your word to teach her, and will do so again,” Solus interrupted.

[FN] shot him a look. “In the interim, especially given this Templar business, I think it might behoove me to be able to defend myself against human men as well.”

Magnai nodded. “And a gun will do you well enough with warning, but you need something you can carry with you.” He moved to the large chest in the far corner of the room, and [FN] looked at the ground. It had been Sidurgu’s marriage chest, full of his trophies and gifts for Sumire, and had now passed into their hands. No one seemed sure what to do with the contents, save Magnai, who took possession of it. Now he rifled through it, looking for something specific, and after a few moments produced a well-balanced, utilitarian dagger. “Here, try this.”

She took it from him tentatively, looking over the length of the blade, before she flipped it over. Solus bit his lip to avoid chuckling - she held it the same way she held a stake. A few delicious memories flickered in the back of his mind and [FN] must have thought the same because he saw her watching him from the corner of her eye as Magnai stood. 

“Oh, you don’t want to hold it like that,” he began, but she shrugged and flipped the dagger again. 

“Like this, strike from below?” She said, and mimed striking upward through Magnai’s abdomen. “That’s how Sumire showed me.”

“Good. We’ll start small. You can be done for the day when you manage to stab me.” The Mongol grinned down at her, and the realization that his [FN] and Magnai were _friends_ struck Solus unexpectedly. He hadn’t realized they’d developed their own relationship outside of him, and he found it simultaneously pleasing and infuriating. He knew Magnai would not harm her, and if he felt some care for her, he would see to her safety as much as Solus would. However, Magnai was a man of honor, and would feel the urge to _interfere_ between them if he disapproved of Solus’s handling of [FN].

_That,_ Solus would not tolerate.

* * *

[FN] was breathing heavily, sweat-slick hair clinging to her temples and neck as Magnai smirked. “It’s been three hours, [FN]. Are you even trying?”

“Come now, Magnai, she’s doing her best. Mortal men aren’t that fast,” Solus grumbled from his armchair. She could feel his eyes on her, his gaze so intense she could feel it traveling over her skin like fingertips. 

“Perhaps, but mortal men will be fighting back,” Magnai countered. [FN] wasn’t daft. She knew he was trying to teach her something without putting it into words. Some lesson she would need to internalize before she could really learn.

For the moment, however, she was just frustrated. With a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms, letting the dagger dangle from her fingertips. “I need some water.”

Magnai gestured to the pitcher sitting on the sideboard and she approached it while Solus stood and grumbled, “You’re pushing her too hard. She is very new to this, and you’re just going to frustrate her and make her lose interest by setting her an impossible task so early.”

[FN] filled a crystal wine glass with water and took a sip.

“This isn’t too early. She’s already had her victories - slaying that Templar and Midori through her own power. She needs _focus.”_ Magnai’s voice was firm, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, turning to face Solus. 

_Focus,_ she repeated in her head as she drank the water greedily. She hadn’t been lying, she was desperately thirsty. But as her eyes lingered over the two men and their arguing, an idea came to her. It was cheap, but she was trying to learn how to save her own life, not win honorable duels. No choice but to see how Magnai reacted. She swayed slightly on her feet, letting the glass tumble from her hand and shatter on the floor, splashing water and shattered crystal on her delicate slippers. 

She knelt and began to pick up the pieces, gathering them in a napkin as both Solus and Magnai rushed over to check on her.

As they both reached down to help her clean it up, she reached out and set her hand on top of Magnai’s. It was a gentle touch, just for a moment, a single heartbeat; then she ripped her hand away and ducked her head even further. 

“Forgive me,” [FN] mumbled, but she needn’t have bothered. The subtle change in the atmosphere as Solus’s jealousy - which had been mounting all evening - reached a fever pitch and he focused on Magnai, who immediately sensed the threat and went on his guard. 

They both remained very still, staring at each other, as Magnai tried to explain. “Solus, I was just helping pick up the glass. She touched me by accident. It wasn’t anything, you know tha-” Magnai glanced down in shock at the slender dagger sticking out of his thigh. 

“That’s my hit,” [FN] said promptly, and pulled the dagger out of his leg. 

Magnai scowled and straightened - she could see the wound had already healed through the hole in his pant leg. “That wasn’t an honorable strike, [FN].”

“I don’t give a good god damn if it’s honorable or not, Magnai. I’m not trying to win the favor of poets or kings - I’m trying to make sure I survive.” Though she managed to keep her voice level, [FN] was slightly hurt at his disappointment, but she needn’t have been.

He grinned widely, and reached out to ruffle her hair, only to pull his hand back at Solus’s glare. “Good. That’s the most important thing to remember: you are trying to survive before all else. Honor is for exhibitions of skill, not for the battlefield.”

Solus was still fuming, and [FN] sighed heavily. “Really, you shouldn’t fuss so much. I got my hit in, now I can pay attention to you, needy baby,” she said.

“[FN],” Magnai said quietly. “I wouldn’t taunt him right now.”

Her lips curled and she said, “Solus won’t hurt me, Magnai.” Then lifted the dagger, still coated in his blood, to her parted lips, his words still echoing in her mind.

_“I want to be the only one you feed from.” _

Solus’s golden eyes bored into hers, a crease appearing between his brows as he snatched the dagger from her hand and threw it across the room, missing Magnai by a hair’s breadth. “Don’t you _dare,”_ he hissed at her. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” Magnai said, pushing his way out, though neither of them turned to watch him leave. 

“You are _mine.”_ Solus’s hands were rough when they grabbed her about the waist, pulling her to him. “You will never know the taste of another man, do you hear me?”

[FN] chuckled. “I will do what I have to,” she said, baiting him in his near-feral anger. “Maybe I should take after Rynn and Amadea. You can stay home drinking with the boys while I go out and try every man I can find on either side of the Channel.” 

All the sound slipped away save the beating of her own heart as Solus’s hands clamped over her ears and he tilted her head up. A single growled word - _”No.”_ \- echoed through his chest and into her as he caught her lips with his and forced them apart. His fangs scraped her tongue, and she tasted her own blood for a moment before his own tongue dove into her mouth to taste her.

Solus’s hands moved from her ears to her shoulders and the world came rushing back, the rattling of the train over the tracks picking up as her own heart began to race. He slipped his fingers under the neckline of her dress.

“Don’t rip it, I like this one!” she pouted.

“I’ll buy you another in Paris,” Solus hissed into her mouth as he rent the fabric and gave a satisfied grunt. “You, and everything you own, belongs to me.” 

“That sword cuts both ways,” she murmured as his mouth descended on her neck. “If I’m yours, you’re mine.” 

Solus didn’t argue; he backed her into the wall and pinned her there, his teeth opening the familiar spot at the curve of her shoulder as the last shreds of her dress fluttered to the floor. [FN] wriggled against him and his hands trailed down to his trousers. “You’re mine,” he repeated, a plaintive plea as she felt his hard length press against the skin of her abdomen. “Do not deny me,” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” she assured him, tightening her grip on his neck and pressing herself against his body. 

“Mine,” he agreed, lifting her off the floor and onto his cock. [FN]’s legs wrapped around his hips reflexively, clinging to him as he took her against the wall with short, rough thrusts. “Promise me,” he gasped, and the tremor in his voice gave away his insecurity. “I’m the only one you’ll taste.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he claimed it with a kiss, his thrusts turning from benevolent to brutal. It was only when her small fists battered against his chest that he broke the kiss to let her take short gasping breaths that were driven out of her just as quickly with each thrust. “Hades,” she whimpered, and that only drove him to further madness. 

_“Promise me,”_ he commanded again, pressing himself at just the right angle to rub against that perfect spot inside her that made her knees twitch and her eyes roll back in her head.

“Let me taste you first,” she urged, pressing her lips to his again and gasping between words. “If you want me to swear off others, let me taste what I get to have.”

[FN] had thought he would refuse her, but on his next thrust he surged upward, pressing his tongue into her mouth again - a tongue that had been slit open by one of his fangs, and now dripped a strange ambrosia beyond anything she’d expected. 

Hades tasted of blood, yes, but it was iron, not copper. Over that was a strange infusion of salt and petrichor and honey that seared its way through her mouth and down her throat. “Mine,” he whispered again as he pulled away, leaving her dazed and gasping.

“Yours,” she agreed, her voice still raw from the way his blood had ravaged her throat. “Only yours.” 

Her words seemed to satisfy him and he settled into an easy pattern of deep thrusts that gave her just enough time to breath, but not enough time for much else; a pattern he continued relentlessly until she dug her fingernails into his skin and cried out as pleasure pulsed through her body, leaving her a ragdoll in his arms.

He finished quickly after that, grinding her hips into the wall while he buried his teeth into the top of her breast. With a shaky sigh, he fell back onto the carpeted floor, holding [FN] close to break her fall. 

They lay together in silence until the sun threatened to come in through the windows. Even then, Hades said nothing as he stood, scooping [FN] into his arms, and carried her to their bedroom to ravish her again.

* * *

The six of them departed the train in Paris, with [FN] clinging especially close to Solus. The city seemed brighter to her, the noise and press of bodies near too much, but her fiancé held her close, escorting her to the Hotel Winchester without a word while the others exchanged knowing smirks. By now Magnai would have told them about the break in his composure, which gave away far more than he was comfortable with; at the moment he couldn’t be fussed to care.

To Hades surprise, as they entered the hotel, a familiar face waited in the lobby, sipping a cup of tea. Though he wore the robes of a monk, he did not sport their signature tonsure; instead, his long white hair flowed freely around him like a river of moonlight.

Urianger and Amadea stiffened, followed half-a-step later by Magnai, who grabbed Rynn and pulled her to his side. But the man did not address any of them, instead sweeping a graceful bow to [FN] and taking her hand to placing a kiss on her engagement ring.

“So you are the mysterious [FN] who has swept our Emet-Selch off his feet,” he said, smiling boyishly at her. 

She looked up at him owlishly, and she blinked twice. “Who are you?”

The man chuckled. “And here I had hoped my reputation had proceeded me.”

Solus laughed. “You’ll have to forgive her, we’ve been a touch preoccupied.”

“Then allow me to introduce myself,” he said, bowing his head. “I am Elidibus, of the First Brood. Sire of Urianger, grand-sire of Amadea, host of Zodiark, and brother to Emet-Selch.”

[FN] smiled. “I had heard you lived in Paris, but… why did you come to see us?”

Elidibus smiled and tilted his head back, giving the young woman a fang-baring grin.

“Because the Angel of Truth is a master of deception.”


	26. Something of You Worth Saving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus speaks with Elidibus, [FN] discovers a plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big OOF.

Elidibus sat beside Emet-Selch at the bar, his chin resting on one hand. “Well, your paramour has certainly mastered the ingénue act, hasn’t she.” He chuckled and took a sip of his crisp white wine. “Not that I expected our resident composer to be attracted to anything less. I admit, for all that it will pain you to lose [FN], I look forward to the music you will make in her memory.”

“I am not going to lose her,” he lied to himself, clutching his own glass of cognac in his white gloved hand. 

A single dry snort preceded Elidibus’s reply. “Hydaelyn wills it so, and Minfilia tells me she has not changed her mind. Why do you think I came to see you in person? To see _her_ in person?”

Emet-Selch said nothing.

“You are my oldest friend,” Elidibus continued. “I will not leave you alone in your grief. We’ll have to do something about Magnai, but he is the last of his people, and perhaps his ‘Nhaama’ -”

_He says the word with such distaste,_ Emet-Selch thought. _Then again, I would too if mine were the one who cursed my friend._

“- can reason with him. Mayhaps holding her hostage will make him flexible. You did say they were coming to Svalbarð for the winter?”

“You underestimate us both.” He could not help the edge in his voice, and Elidibus paused, returning his wine glass to the bar top. “You do not know what happened in Vienna.”

“I had the story from Urianger. Your soulmate, whom you yet refuse to acknowledge, killed Midori.” Elidibus chuckled. “For all that she is your ingénue, [FN] has the heart of a viper beneath those beautiful breasts.”

“You know _nothing_ of her, and she is not my soulmate.”

_“Liar,”_ Elidibus said, and took another sip of wine. “Midori saw it true, and so does Minfilia. You have watched a hundred civilizations rise and fall while you waited for someone to love you, all of you. I can see the scars on her neck, the way you leave a space for her by your side, even now.” The Emissary gestured to the empty space between them at the otherwise empty bar. “We cannot bear to be that close to another, not once our other half has entered our lives. You will leave that space for her, you know. Until the end of time, you will never allow another that close again.”

“That’s true,” Emet-Selch whispered. “But as I said, ‘You underestimate us both. You do not know what happened in Vienna.’”

“Then educate me,” Elidibus said with a chuckle. 

“I tried to throw myself into the sunlight to save her.”

Elidibus’s chuckling stopped. “What?”

“When Hien was bearing down on her, I - ” The cognac in his snifter sloshed slightly with how his hands shook. “I was so sure it was the end. I was ready. I was going to dash out there and tear his head off in that single moment of sunlight before I died. I knew I could do it. [FN] would be safe and I… [FN] would be safe. That’s all that matters.”

The oldest men in the world stared down at their drinks in silence.

* * *

[FN] entered the Sainte-Chapelle in silence, sticking to the back of the nave with Molly as they watched the congregants go through the motions of mass. These Roman rites had always been strange to her, something “continentals” did. But these last months had taught her so much, not the least of which was how narrow her view of the world had been. 

She had friends, _good_ friends, who remembered when all good Christians had been Catholic. And Hades… to her lover, Christianity itself was nothing but a recent fad, and it was no wonder he looked on it with the same derision she reserved for fly-by-night trends in skirts and bustles.

When so ancient an institution as Christianity was less than a hundredth of his own life, was it any wonder Hades treated her like she was as ephemeral as a soap bubble? Beautiful, enchanting, but the barest brush shattered the illusion and _Pop!_ gone for good. 

It made her feel miniscule, knowing that he was so ancient she could not wrap her mind around it, and so formidable that other ancient beings paid him homage and fought against him only warily. They spoke his assumed name with trepidation and wonder. _Why_ out of all the women he could have had, had he chosen _her?_

In truth, she knew the answer. So many people had pointed her to it. The same urge that drove Magnai to buy every frippery he came across and give them to a thief in the hopes of a single smile, that pushed Urianger to bend his priestly vows to the point of breaking to please a courtesan, that had kept Sidurgu’s smile on his face even as the sun rose to destroy him - that was why Solus would not, _could not,_ stay away. 

Until he could say it, they would stay like this. She would accept nothing less.

“[FN] [LN]?” A masculine voice said, and she snapped her head to the side, surprised to see an unfamiliar man smiling down at her. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

Unease crawled up [FN]’s back, and Molly’s hand went to her shoulder. “How do you know Lady Heathfield?” she asked, and [FN] could have kissed her. She had been a good companion through all of this, even more so since Sumire and Sidurgu’s deaths, and how the resulting grief had made them all more distant.

“I am Etiénne, a friend of Sterling’s,” he said, affably. “I was sorry to hear of his death.”

[FN] looked away, biting her lip, and Etiénne took a seat beside her. “I wished for you to know, my lady, that our protection did not end with his death.”

“What protection?” she asked, but found herself captivated by the stained glass window her eyes had landed on. A woman, her hair bound beneath a kerchief, a crown on her head, holding a sword over a sleeping man.

“I know Sterling was not the best of us,” he said, and she could sense him searching for the words to explain. He would have to, of course, English not being his first language. “He did not do enough to get you away from him. But we know what Count Galvus is. And my brothers in England have taken a solemn vow to see you safe and the monster slain.”

Her eyes dropped to the next rondel - the woman now head aloft the man’s severed head, and it was red with blood. “How many of his kind do you slay in a given year?”

Etiénne’s mouth twitched into a smile as he blushed. “Well, we do not manage it often, I fear. It takes decades of research and planning to be prepared to kill one of them. But we believe we can up our number to three in a single night very soon.”

[FN]’s fingers tightened involuntarily on the hymnal in her hands. “Three? _How?”_

“Come with me,” he said quietly, “and I’ll tell you.”

She released her fingers and set the book down, taking her handbag instead. Molly rose to follow her, and Etiénne quirked a brow. “I would prefer to have this conversation alone,” he said.

“Molly is my dear friend, and my one comfort in these trying times. Besides, I know better than to go anywhere alone with a Frenchman.” She raised her nose into the air, the perfect image of british gentility. 

Etiénne smirked. “Sterling made many reports before his passing, my lady. He made note of many things he saw in his time, not the least of which is your… _ardor_ for the vampire.” He leaned close to her, bringing one hand up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “So will you come with me, or have you lost your taste for living men?”

Molly inhaled sharply, but [FN] raised one hand and smiled. “If I’m not back in an hour, come find me. If you can’t, go to the hotel and summon them.” She tilted her head back towards Etiénne. “The count hates to be deprived of what he considers _his.”_

“I am so aware,” he replied, and offered his hand. [FN] took it, her smile implying more confidence than she actually felt.

With quick steps he led her to a small door in one corner of the narthex. It had no keyhole or handle, but he pressed a nearby carving of the Blessed Virgin, and it swung inward to reveal a narrow staircase going down.

Etiénne bowed. “Ladies first.”

* * *

“So, no offense intended, but what do you even have that would convince me you can stop him? Your order has killed so few, and I do not wish to risk his ire by supporting you if you are doomed to failure.” [FN] stood at the bottom of the stairs, in a small room filled with books and a large desk.

“We’ve been researching Count Galvus for years,” Etiénne said. “He is a vain, cruel creature, you know. Has killed so many people.”

“Knowing the Kraken has tentacles that stretch for miles doesn’t mean you’ll be able to stop them from crushing you beneath the waves.” She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

Snatching a roll of paper from a corner, he spread it out on his desk and [FN] was somehow unsurprised to see a perfect floorplan of Amaurot, perfectly rendered with the exception of what waited beyond the basement door. Fury filled [FN], but she kept it from her features. She made her decision then, but would play this game a little longer.

“We’ve had a man inside to get the floorplan, and two servants on the staff.” Etiénne leaned forward and placed his hand over hers. “But I need to know there’s something of you worth saving.”

[FN]’s lips twisted in a smile. “If I’ve learned anything in my time with them, it’s that when you have enough money, morality goes out the window.” Pressing herself against him, she set her handbag on the desk, and let her fingers brush over the latch. “But there’s no point in wasting my time if you can’t give me what I want.”

He pressed her hips into the desk with his, undressing her with his eyes. “And what do you want, Lady Heathfield?”

“Pain,” she said, batting her eyelashes up at him as she drew the dagger from her bag. Etiénne’s eyes followed it as she lifted the tip to her tongue, drawing a bead of blood. Then she offered the dagger to the man before her. He parted his lips obediently, and licked the dagger clean before letting her press the tip to his tongue. 

Though her instincts told her to push further, she pulled it bag, contemplating the blood on the tip as Etienne began to leave bloody kisses on her neck. “I had heard you English were debauched once you got past your inhibitions,” he laughed.

“You have no idea,” she purred, and he lifted his head to stare down into her eyes. 

They stared at each other, a whole conversation passing between their eyes as she moved the dagger away. Etiénne leaned close to kiss her, letting out a sudden gasp as she sank her blade into his abdomen, just as Sumire and Magnai had shown her. His eyes widened as he stared at her, but she pulled the dagger out, slamming it back into him at a slightly different angle.

_“The innards of a man aren’t meant to mix,”_ Magnai had said. _“The more you slice, the more likely he will die.”_ Though they’d only had a few lessons, Oronir had taught her well. Etiénne tried to fight her, but her first two strikes had been true, and his strength faded quickly as the dagger rent everything beneath his skin.

“Witch,” the Frenchman growled, stumbling back and clutching his stomach. Blood flowed from the wounds and he hit the wall, panting heavily as sweat beaded on his brow. “My brothers will kill you both.” 

“Will they?” she asked, moving toward him. “I’m just going to burn everything in this room.”

“You think that’s our only map of his manor? Of the Oronirs’ manor?” Etiénne tried to laugh, but he coughed, and blood bubbled past his lips as he did. “Kill me. You’re not preventing anything.”

[FN] said nothing else, leaning down and slicing his throat as deeply as she could. His neck began to make a strange wheezing noise as he slumped to the floor in a futile fight to last a few seconds longer. She stood over him, watching blood flow out of his wounds and stain her shoes and the hem of her dress. 

Once Etiénne was still and the blood was sticky, she stepped away and headed back up the stairs, only to discover there was no handle on this side, either. She searched the area around the frame but could not find anything to push or pull that would open the door.

“Well,” [FN] murmured. “Shit.”

* * *

Solus scowled as he woke. [FN] had not returned from her daily excursion, and he was still irritable from his conversation with Elidibus the night before. Dear friend though the other man was, thinking about the possibility of losing [FN] hurt too much to be borne easily. He rolled out of the wide bed and dressed, hoping to find her enjoying a light supper downstairs. 

Instead, he found Molly pacing anxiously in the hall outside their rooms. “Where is -” he began, but the maid interrupted.

“[FN]’s in some kind of trouble. She followed a man who said some nasty things.”

“Where?” He asked, heading back into the room to collect his suit coat.

“At the Sainte-Chapelle,” Molly said, following him closely. “A man came up talking about Sterling, and implying they planned to kill you.”

“Oh, I do pity him,” Magnai said, falling into step. “Shall I collect the others?”

“I’m sure Urianger will have some objection to me destroying a Cathedral as old as he is,” Solus replied.

“Actually, I have heard there is talk of decommissioning it completely,” Urianger said. “Besides, I am not the type to miss whatever trouble your betrothed hath gotten herself into this time.”

Solus felt his eyes roll. “Fine, but not a word of this to -”

“Really, Emet-Selch, you should know by now you cannot keep secrets from me. I hear your lover is quite the little murderess. I am eager to see her handiwork first hand.” Elidibus gave him an enigmatic smile. “I do not think you will have much trouble finding her.”

In truth, they didn’t. Molly had seen the door in the narthex, and it was a simple enough matter to shoulder it open, though Urianger made a displeased noise in the back of his throat as a small carving or Mary snapped off the wall.

[FN] was unharmed, save a displeased look on her face and blood on her cotton day dress. In the far end of the room was a man’s slumped body, a number of deep wounds in his stomach and one last across his throat. Her dagger lay on the desk, smeared with blood, beside a map of -

His eyes widened in shock to see a home, _his_ home, rendered in exquisite detail. Another page had a list of his servants (and included Thancred, Rinor, and the rest of their circus on it so he knew the werewolves hadn’t written the bloody thing). 

Solus looked up to find [FN] watching him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. When she realized she had his attention, she said “Send a telegram to Merritt. I want the gardener and the new cook gone by sunset tomorrow. We’re going home.”

She was angry, _furiously angry,_ and he could do nothing but appreciate that it wasn’t at him. Though his long-dead heart almost fluttered to hear her refer to Amaurot as _home._


	27. Tu di mia vita sei lo splendor [EX]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They return to Amaurot, and Solus finally admits the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe! Grab tissues before you read this. Also, I accepted the challenge and used "apple-sized kitten makers" in a fic. You're welcome.

Rinor bit his lower lip and clutched the headboard, holding back a guttural moan as Thancred’s fingers threaded through his hair. The leader of the Midnight Circus never failed to dissappoint, and today was certainly no different as he thrust upward into Rinor so hard it took his breath away. 

A light knock at the door made his eyes snap open again, but Thancred growled, “We’re not in,” before moving his hands to Rinor’s waist and pulling him down more forcefully. He could tell Thancred was close, both by the way he panted in ragged gasps, and the way his canines had started to elongate, bringing a sharp edge to his whole demeanor.

Rinor’s cock was pinned between them, and the friction was enough to drive him mad - mad enough that he ignored the knocking as it became more and more insistent. Then a rough orgasm washed over him, and he came all over Thancred’s chest just a moment before his lover emptied his apple-sized kitten makers inside him.

The knock came again as Thancred finally slid out of Rinor, scowling deeply. He grabbed his long trench coat off the bed post and pulled it on, cinching it around his waist to hide his nudity and standing to block the view of the bed from the door as he threw it open. 

“You better have a damned good -” he began, but Merritt offered him a slip of paper.

“There’s been an incident. Count Galvus said that you would handle it.”

Thancred read the telegram, and his scowl deepened. “Don’t warn them. Give me an hour.”

Merritt nodded once, then headed toward the stairs.

“What is it?” Rinor asked, cleaning himself up. Thancred didn’t reply, just dropped the telegram on the side table and began to wipe himself down as well.

He picked it up and red it, his eyebrows near vanishing beneath his midnight blue hair as he did.

_Returning home. STOP._

_Cook and Gardener likely hunters. STOP._

_Have Map of Estate. STOP._

_Get rid of them. STOP._

_Kill if necessary. STOP._

“What are we going to do?” Rinor asked Thancred.

“What we do best,” he replied. “Remind the Templars there’s more that goes bump in the night than just a bunch of leeches.”

* * *

“I regret to inform you that Count Galvus has decided your services will no longer be necessary,” Merritt said diplomatically. “You will each be given a month’s wages in gratitude for your service, but you are to pack your things and leave immediately.” 

Bert glanced at the cook, Galen, who pursed his lips. “I’ll believe that when I hear it from his lordship. I’ve put in good service, not caused trouble - you can’t just toss me out on my ear.”

Something ticked in Merritt’s jaw, but he folded his hands. “Let me be clear; the decision has been made, and I have received my instructions. The wages and a stellar reference are only on the condition that you leave without complaint. Should we be forced to remove you with force, those considerations are forfeit.”

Galen opened his mouth again, going slightly red, but Bert placed a hand on his shoulder. “‘S'all right, Gale. We’ll go for now, and come back and take it up with the Count to confirm once he’s returned to town.”

_I do not like their chances for surviving_ that_ conversation,_ Merrit thought, but he said, “I am sure Count Galvus would be pleased to discuss this matter upon his return.”

Bert nodded. “We’ll just go pack our things.”

“Thank you,” Merritt released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I will prepare your wages, and have Fletcher take you into town.”

Galen scowled, but Bert nodded. “Thank you, sir. Come on, Gale.”

The two men mumbled to each other as they headed down the stairs to the servant’s quarters while Merritt went to the small office he’d commandeered to count out the bank notes. As he was locking up again, he heard Thancred and Rinor whispering to each other in the hall.

“They had _maps,”_ the younger man said meaningfully.

Thancred rubbed the side of his face. “Christ. Anything else?”

“At least three woode-” Rinor cut himself off abruptly as Merritt appeared in the doorway, two large envelopes under his arm.

The three of them stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, until Merritt finally said, “My suspicions are true, aren’t they?”

“What suspicions?” Rinor asked innocently, but Thancred’s eyes narrowed.

Merritt glanced toward the stairs to the servants quarters. “Count Galvus referred to them as ‘hunters.’ He is fabulously wealthy and terribly reclusive. His best friend is a Chinaman who speaks the Queen’s English with perfect diction and without an accent, even though the man appears to be barely older than Fletcher.” He looked back at the pair, meeting Thancred’s gaze. “He’s never awake during daylight hours, and he is very sensitive to blood. As are his compatriots. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Rinor shot Thancred a nervous look out of the corner of his eye. He sighed and shook his head. “You are being paid for your discretion.”

“And I’ve been discrete,” Merritt countered. “I haven’t told a soul my suspicions save the two of you, but I have also been tasked with his Lordship with managing this household. The more I know about its members, the better a job I can do. So I ask you to tell me, is he a vampi-”

“Don’t use that word,” Thancred growled. “But yes. You didn’t hear it from us, but yes.”

“So Bert and Galen are…”

“A disaster waiting to happen. Perhaps one in the process of happening.” Thancred’s reply was curt. “What will you do?”

“Me?” Merritt seemed surprised by the question. “I’ll be doing my job. This may not have been the life I _planned,_ but the people I have here - Kitty, Martha, Fletcher, Lady [FN], the Count… God’s mercy, even you two - you’re all the closest thing to a family a man like me is like to have. I’ve no desire to let such a trivial matter change that.”

Thancred barked a laugh. “Well, that makes things simpler.” He patted Merritt’s shoulder in friendly affection. “Should you ever tire of the service life, we could use a man like you in the circus. We’ve had a mighty need for a little class.”

“And someone decent with accounting!” Rinor added.

Merritt laughed so loud it echoed off the marble floors.

* * *

The carriage was deathly quiet as it rattled past the gates of Amaurot just after sundown. Urianger and Amadea had bid their goodbyes in Paris, staying to help Elidibus sort the Templar documentation they had found in the cellar of the Sainte-Chapelle. Now things were as they had been in the beginning - Magnai, Rynn, Solus, and [FN]. 

As it rolled to a stop, [FN]’s sleeping form tumbled into Solus, and he caught her reflexively, smiling down at her as her eyes fluttered open.

“Hello,” she said around a yawn, a delicate lace-gloved hand coming to cover her mouth.

“Good Evening,” he replied, and pulled her closer. “Would you please go have Merritt and Fletcher take our things inside. Then would you join me in the basement?”

[FN] nodded, wriggling out of his arms as she slipped out of the carriage, leaving him alone with Magnai and his wife.

Lord Oronir watched [FN] vanish into the house then looked back at Solus. “What are you planning?”

“Remain here until dawn,” he said quietly. “Then I shall tell you before you leave.”

* * *

[FN] descended the stairs to the basement, happy to be home at long last. She had loved travelling, but this was her _home._ It was where she and Solus had initially fallen in love, and where they would live for many years to come.

Just as she finished remaking the bed, Solus appeared behind her, tilting her head to press his lips to the curve of her neck. He did not bite, much to her surprise, but carressed her with infinite tenderness. He dropped a leather folio on the blanket before her before bringing his other hand up to stroke her shoulder. 

As his lips moved along her shoulder she reached down, opening the folder and lifting the first page of sheet music. It was filled with his elegant notation and lyrics in Italian. Not for the first time, she cursed her inability to read the language. “It’s finished?” she asked.

“It is,” he replied, his hands moving to slide down the sides of her torso and come to rest on her waist. “Now to find a buyer. Elidibus recommended we seek out a man named Verdi.”

“The man who wrote _Rigoletto?”_ [FN] asked.

Solus chuckled. “You’ve been studying up on opera.” He squeezed her and nuzzled against her ear.

“Of course I have. My future husband loves it, and I yearn to share his interests.”

He said nothing in reply, kissing her hairline instead as he began to unlace her dress.

“Does it have a love song?” 

“I wrote it for you, didn’t I?” His voice was rough with longing, and some other emotion she did not recognize. 

[FN] closed her eyes and leaned back against him as her dress fell to the floor and he began working on her corset. “Sing it for me.”

His lips brushed between her shoulder blades before he sang quietly, removing her clothing piece by piece.

_“Celeste Aida, forma divina.  
Mistico serto di luce e fior,  
Del mio pensiero tu sei regina,  
Tu di mia vita sei lo splendor.  
Il tuo bel cielo vorrei redarti,  
Le dolci brezze del patrio suol;  
Un regal serta sul crin posarti,  
Ergerti un trono vicino al sol.”_

She sighed wistfully and turned in his arms, undressing him while he ran his fingers over her body with tender reverence. He looked to be on the verge of tears, but his lips were pressed in a thin line. 

“What is it?” [FN] asked, as the last of his clothing fell to the floor to join her own.

His fingers traced the chain around her neck to the locket that held his hair. “Promise me that you will never forget me.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “Hades, how could I? You’re to be my husband. You’ll be by my side for eternity. I could no more forget you than I can forget myself.”

He bit his lower lip. “I know you’re still tired, but I would like to make love to you before you sleep.”

[FN] giggled. “I was hoping you would.” She tried to give him a flirtatious grin, but something in his demeanor doomed the attempt to failure from the outset. 

Hades’s eyes traced every inch of her face and he leaned close to kiss her. He was gentle to a fault as he lowered her to the bed, moving the folio to the side table as his lips moved down her neck to her breasts. 

“You are everything I have ever dreamed of wanting, [FN],” he said before taking one of her nipples into his mouth. She trembled with desire and hooked one of her legs over his hip, drawing him closer. “Let me show you how precious you are. I do not want you to forget.”

With a laugh, she nodded, then threw her head back as his fingers parted her labia and slipped inside of her, driving her to mindless desire with practiced ease. “I’ve had you for eight months,” Hades whispered, “but it still feels like so little. It’s so dreadfully unfair.”

“Hades,” she whimpered as his thumb rolled over her clitoris. “Hades - I’m not going anywhe-” His mouth caught hers, swallowing the rest of her comments as he worked her into a frenzy, only freeing her lips when her orgasm made her arch against him, the only word she could remember his true name. It fell from her in desperate pants and he closed his eyes, letting himself drown in its cadence.

[FN] was limp as a ragdoll beneath him when he mounted her, both arms draped loosely about his neck as he used long, even thrusts to claim every inch of her, only allowing himself to climax once his patient work had brought her to completion a second time.

He stroked her skin softly as she drifted off to sleep, then buried his head in her shoulder and wept until he’d worked up the resolve to do what he must.

* * *

Magnai raised an eyebrow at Solus as he followed the butler out of his office. Merritt went to go make some kind of preparations, leaving Solus and Magnai alone in the foyer of Amaurot.

“Care to tell me what’s going on?” he asked his sire.

“Have you ever wondered why you never met one of my childer older than yourself?” Solus asked.

The question took Magnai aback. “What -?”

“The Templars have ever been a European problem, and I, the eldest of our kind in Europe.” He tightened the buttons on his gloves, flexing his hands. “They killed every last one of your predecessors.”

Magnai swallowed. “The Knights Templar were only active for two centuries.” 

“And they were _brutally_ effective. When they decide it is time to strike, they do so completely and without mercy. They do not rest until their quarry is caught and killed.” Solus face was drawn. “And now they seek to kill me and mine.”

Solus went silent for a few moments, until Magnai broke it by saying, “They will not rest unless they kill at least one of us.”

“Just so.” He swallowed, and finally met Magnai’s eyes. “You know that I was cursed by Elidibus’s soulmate, Minfilia.”

“I do.” Magnai’s throat suddenly felt dry, despite the fact he’d fed from Rynn in Dover.

Running a gloved hand through his hair, Solus said, “She cursed me that when I found my Nhaama, we could not be together. One of us would sacrifice ourselves for the other before I made her like me. She can only live without this sword of Damocles over her head once I have died.”

Solus stared out the window towards the eastern horizon, where the sky was just beginning to lighten, only perceptible to their preternatural sight. “I have a request, Magnai.”

The younger man shifted uncomfortably. “Anything, my friend.”

He sighed heavily. “Let her live. I know your faith tells you she must die, but it tells you to do that… for me. And I am telling you to let her live. Whatever is beyond this life, if we are supposed to be together, we will be. Based on the stars, I waited one hundred and ninety-three thousand years for her. What’s another eighty?” He chuckled, but it was mirthless. “So that’s what I want - I want her to live as much as she can. I know you and Rynn will be there for her. But I don’t want to see her again for a long time.”

Magnai closed his eyes for a moment. “She will not go quietly.”

“No, she won’t,” he agreed. “I’ve sent Merritt to collect her things and have them taken to your carriage. You and Rynn should take her and flee England.”

“We will go to Svalbarð,” Magnai said.

“[FN] does not wish to go there. You can leave her in Scotland. So long as it will take her some time to get back here. Long enough that the danger of them finding her has passed.”

“It is a heavy thing you ask of me,” Magnai told him. “You ask me to go against my very faith. If it were for anything less than your dying wish, I would not do it.”

“If it were anyone less than my Nhaama,” Solus countered, “I would not ask it.”

“I know.”

A light creak on the stairs alerted them to Rynn’s arrival. “What’s going on?” she asked.

* * *

“I need you to go with Rynn and Magnai for a few days,” Hades said to [FN] as he helped her lace her dress back up. “I need to do a thorough sweep of Amaurot and make sure they have left nothing that might harm us. The easiest way for me to do that involves making the manor uninhabitable for mortals for a short time - gas leak and all that. Do you mind?”

[FN] pouted. “I’d rather you came with me.”

“I know,” he said fondly, pressing the folio into her hands. “I’m sending the servants as well. Maybe one of them can play bits of the opera for you? If not, Magnai is a fair hand at the lute.” Hades’s fingers traced over her cheek. “Maybe hearing the music will remind you of me. I do not want to be forgotten.”

“You won’t be,” she assured him, placing a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ll see if Rynn and Magnai will take me to London to replace the cook and gardener.”

“That is a good idea. And buy yourself something nice, yes? Maybe something in red? I so adore that color on you.”

She tittered behind her hand. “If I must. I will miss you.”

Hades followed her up the stairs, out onto the gravel drive before Amaurot’s main doors. 

“[FN], wait,” he said, and she stopped, turning to face him again. “There is… There is one more thing I have to tell you.” He lifted both of her hands in his as he pressed his lips to her fingers, and held them tightly as he spoke. 

“I was an idiot before I found you - chasing an unobtainable bliss from moment to moment, breaking others for my own amusement, giving in to the pain that permeates this world of broken people. These last eight months with you have been the most beautiful of the last two hundred millenia. Loving you has shown me so many things that I had never known before, and every day, you have honored me by loving me back.”

Despite not needing to breathe, his voice still wavered as he spoke. “I am so grateful to you. Without you, I would have continued on - empty and alone, unsure what I was living _for,_ lost in an endless cycle of rage and despair until Armageddon claimed everything.” Hades released her hands, and the tears he had been fighting finally broke free, tracking down his cheeks. “Do not forget me, [FN], but do not be in any hurry to see me again. I am content to wait.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion and she glanced at the others carrying her possessions out of the manor, strapping them to the carriage. “Solus… what are you saying? It’s just for -”

Magnai’s hands came down on her shoulders, and her eyes went wide. “What are you doing? Solus, you can’t. You _can’t!”_

Two hundred thousand years of self-control fell back into place. “Take her.”

[FN]’s screams, slipping quickly from “Solus!” to _“Hades!”_ as they increased in volume and pitch, followed him back into the manor while Magnai held her back. 

Her cries of his name tore his heart to pieces as he bolted the door behind him.

The way her voice became more and more ragged clawed at his soul while he prepared their bedroom, pushing the bed aside and leaving the trapdoor slightly open - just enough that attacking templars could find it, but not think that it was intentionally left open.

Hades only found silence when he descended into the cellar below their bedroom and tucked himself into his casket to sleep within it for the first time in months.

“One day, my Nhaama, my soulmate, my dearest [FN],” he murmured into the silk of his coffin, “one day you will understand why I must do this.”

He let dreamless sleep claim him at last, content to wait in darkness to the end of all he was.


	28. The One Who Didn’t Deserve It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [FN] does what she must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to add an epilogue, but I think it ends best here. If I ever do come up with a good one I'll add it, but all the versions i've written seem to fall flat.

[FN]’s throat was so raw that every word she tried to speak came out as little more than a gasp. Which would explain why Rynn and Magnai were ignoring her.

“Why did we take her against her will?” Lady Oronir demanded of her husband for the fifth time. Magnai still said nothing, his face a twisted mask of pain and regret and obligation. “Magnai, I am _trusting_ you, but I think she and I both deserve the courtesy of an explanation.”

The angry stares of two women seemed to be enough to overcome his resolve, and he threw up his hands in defeat. “The Templars are going to attack. They will not stop unless they have some kind of victory.” He glanced at [FN], and the anger and betrayal in her face cut into him enough that he turned his face away in shame before saying, “He is sacrificing himself for all of us.”

Rynn loosened her grip when [FN] began wriggling again, letting her move to the bench beside her. A single, choked out “water” was enough to have a small canteen pressed into her hands. She drank greedily, thinking over her options. [FN] knew she would only get one chance. If she failed to get away from the Oronirs they would not trust her again until they had taken her too far to help Hades. And she had to help him, or die trying. It was what they had promised each other, after all.

To say she was furious with him for thinking he could get her to go back on her word so easily was an understatement. Her anger could only be described as apocalyptic, and it coursed through her veins, granting her adrenaline and clarity in a situation which should have terrified her. She was going to get back to Amaurot, find a way to stop the Templars and save him. They could all be furious with her after that, or mourn over her corpse. Those were the only two options she was willing to accept.

The water soothed her throat, and she coughed a few times before taking another drink and then passing it back. Magnai was distracted by Rynn taking him to task over… something. [FN] found she really didn’t care what. Taking stock of her situation, she came up with a plan. It was brutal, quick and effective, but would leave her in danger. Lady Oronir would _probably_ forgive her, and at the moment, she didn’t care if Magnai did. He had agreed to Solus’s harebrained scheme - leave it to these men to be so overly dramatic about things - so he could deal with the consequences. 

The sun was rising swiftly, and already the carriage was bathed in sunlight save for the tiny patch of shadow that made up the interior. [FN] felt for her dagger, and saw her chance. With a fluid motion, she drew it and lunged for the nearest door with all her strength. She felt more than heard Rynn’s arms wrap around her waist, and in that instant changed direction, pushing herself backward towards the opposite side of the carriage. 

Lady Oronir’s force worked against her and they both tumbled into the opposite door, their combined weight forcing it open. [FN] tumbled into the sunlight while Magnai caught Rynn’s arm, keeping her safe, the only point of contact between the two women Rynn’s firm grip on [FN]’s forearm.

“Pull her back in!” Magnai called angrily.

Rynn, however, met [FN]’s gaze as she dangled precariously just above the grasses that lined the road to the village. “Why?” she asked.

[FN] steeled her resolve. “I may _not_ be his Nhaama,” she offered. “But he’s mine.”

With a single, swift nod, her dearest friend let go, and Lady Heathfield fell to the earth. “If you survive this madness, we’ll be in Svalbarð!” Rynn called after her.

“If we survive this madness,” she shouted, though it hurt her throat, “I will see you there!”

Shoving the dagger into the stomacher of her dress, [FN] grabbed her skirts in both hands and turned back, tromping through the grass and mud, towards Amaurot, where an ancient vampire was about to receive a piece of her mind.

* * *

_I have definitely become spoiled,_ [FN] thought to herself as she finally walked into the gates. It was near noon, and her lungs and legs ached from running here. She’d lost her shoes somewhere along the way, and they were cracked and scraped and bleeding in a few places, but she still had her dagger. That would have to be enough.

A voice behind her caught her attention, and she turned to see Molly, sweating and panting, following her along the road. “Lady Heathfield!” she called, stumbling over to her. “I was so worried when I saw you run by without…” Molly bent over, hands on her knees, and wheezed. “Your bag.”

She held out the handbag like an offering, and the absurdity of the situation made [FN] laugh hysterically. “Why did you follow me here?” [FN] demanded as she crossed the gravel drive on bare feet, taking one of Molly’s arms and looping it over her shoulder to help the older woman into the house.

“They said the Templars are coming to kill the Count.” It was explanation enough, and though the front door was latched, they made their way around to the servant’s entrance and forced their way in. 

[FN] pulled open the door to the larder and poked around. She was desperately hungry and thirsty, but didn’t have time to prepare a real meal. Most of her mental energy was already devoted to determining what she would do to stop the Templars when they arrived. She needed a plan - a real plan, with _some_ chance of success. Her revolver was in her handbag, and she had the dagger, but that wouldn’t be much success against a group of armed men, even if it was just Bert and Galen. 

She found a wheel of the sharp cheese she was fond of in the back, and cut off a few pieces to nibble while she thought, digging around for something else, when her hand landed on a small box Elidibus had pressed into her hands as they were leaving Paris.

_“My better half asked me to give these to you, if we were to meet,” Elidibus said, holding out the box. “She said you would make good use of them.”_

_[FN] gave him a dubious look as she took the box, opening it to find a few oranges packed in wood shavings. “Fruit?”_

_“Blood Oranges,” he specified. “You should save them until you are home. They’ll keep.”_

Though she hadn’t trusted the gift then - she knew Minfilia was the one who had cursed Hades - an idea came to her mind, and she took one in hand and said aloud, “I have an idea.”

“Oh?” Molly’s voice called from the kitchen.

“I need you to make a paste with flour and water, then juice this orange.”

Her maid’s footsteps approached. “What for?”

“I’m going to trick the Templars,” [FN] said. “If I make them think I-”

A loud click interrupted her, and she turned to find Molly had pulled the hammer back on her revolver, and had it aimed at her chest. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, carefully putting the orange back on the shelf.

“We’re trying to _save_ you from him, Lady Heathfield.” Molly said. “It’s what Sterling wanted.”

“You never met Sterling,” [FN] argued.

“No, but my father was a Templar. He told me all about the terrifying Emet-Selch.” Molly’s face was emotionless. “You can leave quietly, or I will kill you. Saving you is secondary to the main mission - killing that ancient thing before it causes any more harm.”

“We _trusted_ you.” Confusion gave way to fear. Molly knew too much. She knew about the real Amaurot in Greece. She knew about the temple. She knew Emet-Selch was _Hades._

“More fool you,” Molly said, and took another step forward. “Now please, [FN]. Come quietly.”

“You let me kill a man in Paris.”

Her maid lifted the gun higher, taking a wide stance. “Acceptable losses.”

“Molly, please,” [FN] had not thought herself one to beg, but she would - she _absolutely_ would - if it would give her the chance to save Hades.

“No more chances, [FN].” Molly opened her mouth to say something else, but there was a sharp _crack_ and her eyes went wide before falling shut as she crumpled to the floor.

Fletcher stood just behind where she had been, a blackjack in one hand. “Are you all right, m’lady?”

“Fletcher?” [FN] asked, grabbing the handgun Molly had dropped as she fell. “What are you doing?”

“He made me give my word, back when he brought me here. I was to see to your safety. Follow you, keep a sharp eye.” The boy was shaking. “F-first time I hurt someone what wasn’t threatening me directly.”

[FN] stepped over Molly and pulled the boy, only a few years younger than she, into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said.

“I’m a man of my word if nothing else,” he laughed. “Now, you said flour paste, and juice some oranges?”

“Right. We don’t have much time. I’ll help.”

* * *

[FN] swallowed and looked in the mirror at her vanity. The effect was obviously garish in the sunlight of her bedroom, but she hoped it would be convincing in the shadows and candlelight of the basement. It was a harebrained scheme, Fletcher had agreed, but better than nothing. 

She had smeared the flour paste over her skin, hiding the flush of life to make herself look pale and unliving, and the juice from the oranges coated her lips, her chin, her hands, and had been spattered across her favorite nightgown. Not for the first time that day, she wished she’d paid more attention when Amadea had applied her maquillage.

If this worked, they would believe she’d been recently turned, and might balk at the proposition of facing two of the undead rather than one. Plus, they’d expect her to attack with her body, not a gun. She was not as strong as Hades, nor as fast. The only advantage she had was surprise and misdirection.

“Lady [FN],” Fletcher called, and pointed toward the moors. Two men were walking over the last hill, approaching the back gate. 

[FN] said a word that was unbecoming of a lady, and stood. “I have to go to the basement. Fletcher, I need you to do something.”

The boy watched her warily. “What?”

“Run outside, toward them, screaming that he made me a vampire. If they ask, he has already left, and turned me, then left me here to defend the house. After they come inside, go prepare some horses in the stables and wait for Count Galvus and I to come out.” She grabbed her gun and dagger, and headed for the stairs. 

“I’m supposed to keep you _safe.”_ he argued. 

“And I will be safe. I’m going to be with Solus. He can protect me far better than you.” [FN] countered.

Fletcher frowned. “I won’t leave the grounds without you.”

She nodded. “Good. I’ll see you soon.” With that, she ran for the basement.

* * *

[FN] had just pulled the bed back over the trap door when she heard voices in the foyer. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but climbed into the bed, hiding the dagger and gun in the pillows with her. One candle burned in the far corner of the room - enough light to see by, but dark enough still that her illusion might not be caught.

The door opened, and she heard footsteps coming down the stairs as she wrapped her fingers around the dagger’s hilt beneath the pillow. 

“You think the boy’s all right?” Bert asked.

“I told him to go to the village. We can check him over for being bitten then. Any sign of Molly down here?”

“No.” [FN] heard the sound of metal jangling, and the room brightened slightly as Bert swung a lantern around. “Maybe the boy told the truth and the girl -” He gasped as the light fell upon her. “Bloody hell.”

Holding her breath, [FN] waited for them to approach.

“Christ have mercy, the poor chit,” Galen said, and she heard his footsteps come nearer. “Hand me one of them stakes, Bert.”

“Right.” There was some rustling, and then it stopped. “Try to be quick. Don’t want her to suffer.”

Three more steps, and she could feel Galen’s presence right behind her. “May the Lord bless and keep you, [FN] [LN],” he said. 

In the breathless silence that followed, she struck.

With a fluid motion she rolled over, pulling the dagger from beneath the pillow and burying it into his neck. Galen stumbled back, his eyes going wide as her other hand pulled her gun from its hiding place, and she released the knife to aim at Bert with both hands. She pulled back the hammer and fired once; missed; then pulled back the hammer again. 

Galen lunged for her, and she tumbled back, turning to face him and pulling the trigger. At that range, she could do nothing _but_ hit him, and he staggered back as the bullet tore through his chest. 

As he fell to the floor, Bert cried out, and [FN] pulled the hammer back again - but at last all her misdirection caught up with her. The old cook barrelled toward her and pinned her to the bed, forcing a second wooden stake - Galen’s now somewhere on the floor - down into her chest. 

His strength was overwhelming, and the crushing pain of her ribs shattering was a mere prelude to the gut-wrenching shock of well-carved wood tearing open her fluttering heart.

[FN] knew she was going to die. It wasn’t a question of how to survive, but how long she had - if she could at least kill Bert before she was done, if she could prevent him from killing Hades. At least this way, he could live. She wasn’t even twenty - barely a blip in the history of everything. Hades was far more valuable. 

Though the strength was quickly leaving her limbs, and her blood was pouring out over her chest and the bed, she managed to lift the gun one last time, and pull the trigger. Her bullet didn’t kill him, but hit Bert’s leg, and he fell at the foot of the stairs. 

“You…” he said, staring at her in dawning horror. “You’re still alive. _You’re still alive!”_ He pulled himself up the stairs as his leg was giving out. “Shit, Shit!”

[FN] did not have the strength to pursue him. She let gravity pull her off the bed and to the floor beside Galen’s body, and dragged herself to the trapdoor. It hurt - everything hurt, and she was weak. She couldn’t breath. Her left arm was pinned beneath her, but she managed to push the trap door open a little further with her right before at last her strength failed, and she let herself be claimed by darkness.

* * *

The scent of _vin santo,_ of [FN]’s blood - the sweetest thing in all creation - was everywhere when Hades woke. He smiled a little to himself, pleased both that his death had been painless, so painless it hadn’t woken him, and that he had come to a paradise of his beloved to wait for her. He would happily pass a lifetime like this - surrounded by silk, smelling nothing but her in the air, having no cares save anticipation for their reunion. Hades would compose a thousand symphonies for her in his mind, filing each away until her death. A paltry offering he would give in recompense for not having admitted what she was in life.

He was surprised he’d ended up in a paradise at all - he had been sure when he died that his crimes would damn him to perdition. But perhaps some mercy had been granted to him for her sake, some loophole for those who had found their Nhaama. After all the millenia, he would not question his good fortune. His face was wet, which surprised him - what did he have to cry about? Then another drop landed on his cheek, and he lifted his hand to see what it was. 

Blood.

[FN]’s blood.

Hades’s eyes flew open and he looked up in horror to see a single, pale, heartbreakingly familiar hand dangling through the trapdoor, a dark line of blood curling around her forearm to drip off of her finger, down onto his face in the casket below.

This wasn’t Heaven at all, but a strange waking Hell.

He tore his way out of the coffin and grabbed the rungs of the makeshift ladder that led up to the trap door, up and through it in an instant. He found [FN] curled in a pool of her own blood, near the body of one of the Templars, her dagger in his neck and a smear of blood on his chest. More blood went up the stairs, but he didn’t have time to think on that now.

Grabbing her arm, Hades flipped [FN] over and tore open her nightgown, pulling the stake from her chest. He was dimly aware she was covered in flour and orange juice, but those were concerns for another time. Whatever mischief she’d gotten up to was immaterial. He had to save her. He had to turn her right now, curse be damned.

[FN] was still, far too still, but he didn’t hesitate to claw his wrist open and let his blood gush forth across his hand as he pulled out the stake, picking a few stray splinters from her flesh and smearing it over her still warm, but not beating, heart.

“Please, [FN],” he whispered. “Please wake up.”

He ignored the taste of oranges as he kissed her, weeping against her lips as he bit his tongue and tried to get some of his vital essence into her that way as well. She was so fragile, and he hated himself more with every moment that passed and she did not stir. He needed to -

A loud crash overhead took his attention, and he lifted his mouth from hers and looked up. He could smell it now, the smoke. The house above them was burning, most likely set by any surviving Templars to hide evidence of their crimes. It had been their way during the Crusades, so it came as no surprise now. 

Hades would have been content to let the fire take him, but there was still a chance [FN] might turn, and he needed to protect her from the blaze.

Scooping her into his arms, Hades descended the ladder again and carried her toward the baths deep beneath Amaurot. He prayed to every god he could remember, and even those unnamed gods of other lands he’d never visited, in a desperate hope to save his soulmate. But as the minutes passed, and she did not stir, he finally lay her body - still in her voile nightgown, though it was stained with juice for some strange reason - in the pool and watched as it drifted lazily across the surface.

Another loud crash came, and he narrowly avoided the roof caving in, opening the ceiling of the baths to the afternoon sky. At this angle, the sun would reach him soon. Hades found he did not care. He was in agreement with Sidurgu on this. There was no point in a world without his Nhaama, and he would see the sun once more before he died. Thankfully he didn’t have long to wait. 

He leaned against a cracked beam of wood and brushed his fingers over [FN]’s hair once before letting her body drift off again and staring up at the daytime sky. He had forgotten how _blue_ it could be. And the clouds were puffy and white, so cheerful and innocent. 

It only made him feel guilt for his hubris. He had taken [FN] from this world - a world of breezes and sunlight and flowers and obnoxious, fluffy clouds, and brought her a world of pain and murder and monsters. She had trusted him, gone willingly into the dark, because she believed his lies and his promises of a future.

Now all she had received was an ignoble end, killed like a monster she hadn’t been, despite his attempts to save her. The curse had told him one of them would sacrifice themselves for the other, and he found it a cruel irony that they had both tried to be the one to make that sacrifice, and he was the one who had survived. Hades, the one who didn’t deserve it.

The sunlight began to creep down the wooden beam, and he held out his hand - ready, at last, to end two hundred millennia of suffering. He had failed to save the one person who mattered, and there was nothing left to live for.

Then two white hands appeared on the periphery of his vision, and he had only that moment’s warning before they pulled him down into the dark.

* * *

Rynn pulled the fur coat Magnai had bought for her in Bjørgvin tight around her shoulders. Though she did not really _feel_ the cold anymore, not the way she had when she still lived. But people needed to see her making concessions to the cold, lest they ask too many questions, and the fur - bear, Magnai had told her - brought strange comfort as they waited near the makeshift docks the whalers used during the season.

A season which was ending today. 

Though it was only two in the afternoon, the endless night of winter was approaching, and so the sun had set an hour before. The Oronirs had been here every evening, looking for signs of unexpected passengers on the vessels that came and went. And now they watched as the last ship was being unloaded - the broken equipment being dumped ashore rather than take up space on their way south to sell whale bone for corsets, whale blubber for oil, and ambergris for perfumes, along with everything else the great creatures provided. 

Solus and [FN] still had not come.

Unable to look anymore, she buried her face in Magnai’s chest and began to weep. Over the past two months, she had doubted herself every day. Should she have let [FN] go? Should she have done as Magnai asked and pulled her back into the carriage? It had been Solus’s dying wish, apparently, that his Nhaama be saved.

Magnai was silent, but she felt his fingers wrap protectively around the back of her head. Rynn felt, more than heard, his soft murmurs of comfort into her hair. They held each other in the dark and cold and quietly mourned their dear friends while she desperately racked her mind for a solution to this great tragedy that would go unnoticed by the rest of the world.

A loud slam from the docks broke the solemnity of the moment, and Rynn flinched, only to hear a strangely smug and familiar voice call out. “Do be careful with those suitcases. My wife will have a fit if her things are damaged.”

A sharp laugh rumbled through Magnai’s chest, and Rynn lifted her head to see Solus, dressed in a black suit, cape, and top hat, leaning on a fashionable cane and tutting at the sailors unloading a pile of luggage. He gave them both a friendly smile, and called out a “Hello!” before the sound of sharp footsteps on the gangplank pulled his attention away.

[FN] descended onto the dock, completely out of place in red silk, and brushed past Solus’s offered arm to grasp Rynn in a tight hug. Magnai laughed and grabbed both of them, squeezing them close as Count Galvus approached.

“I will thank you to unhand my Nhaama, Magnai,” he said, and [FN] finally did turn back to him, her smile bright and wide and unashamed of her fangs. “You would have a far worse fit if I dared to touch yours.”

“Of course,” Lord Oronir said, and though his voice sounded mollified, his grin was unabashed. “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you both to Svalbarð.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this fic and want to see when it updates, follow me on twitter: [@amandaterasu](https://www.twitter.com/amandaterasu) !  
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